es," she
murmured quite softly, and looking up for the first time, shyly,
to meet his eyes.

Her hand was still on his arm, covered by his, and she nestled so
close to him that it was easy, natural, indeed, for him to slip
his other arm around her waist and draw her to him.

"And now--of all times--may I say one word more?" he whispered in
her ear. "Will you give me the right to shelter and protect you,
to stand by you, share your troubles, or keep them from you--?"

"No, no, no, indeed, not now!" She looked up appealingly, the
tears brimming up in her bright eyes. "I cannot, will not accept
this sacrifice. You are only speaking out of your true-hearted
chivalry. You must not join yourself to me, you must not involve
yourself--"

He stopped her protests by the oldest and most effectual method
known in such cases. That first sweet kiss sealed the compact so
quickly entered into between them.

And after that she surrendered at discretion. There was no more
hesitation or reluctance; she accepted his love as he had offered
it, freely, with whole heart and soul, crept up under his
sheltering wing like a storm-beaten dove reentering the nest, and
there, cooing softly, "My knight--my own true knight and lord,"
yielded herself willingly and unquestioningly to his tender
caresses.

Such moments snatched from the heart of pressing anxieties are
made doubly sweet by their sharp contrast with a background of
trouble.

CHAPTER XVI

They sat there, these two, hand locked in hand, saying little,
satisfied now to be with each other and their new-found love. The
time flew by far too fast, till at last Sir Charles, with a
half-laugh, suggested:

"Do you know, dearest Countess--"

She corrected him in a soft, low voice.

"My name is Sabine--Charles."

"Sabine, darling. It is very prosaic of me, perhaps, but do you
know that I am nearly starved? I came on here at once. I have had
no breakfast."

"Nor have I," she answered, smiling. "I was thinking of it
when--when you appeared like a whirlwind, and since then, events
have moved so fast."

"Are you sorry, Sabine? Would you rather go back to--to--before?"
She made a pretty gesture of closing his traitor lips with her
small hand.

"Not for worlds. But you soldiers--you are terrible men! Who can
resist you?"

"Bah! It is you who are irresistible. But there, why not put on
your jacket and let us go out to lunch somewhere--Durand's,
Voisin's, the Cafe de le Paix? Whi