of her sufferings? No. I would see her, tell
her of my love for her, marry her. Louise, one more kiss--eh! Then I must
have fallen asleep.

When I returned from the world of nod my valet had brought me my morning
chocolate. My brain was anything but clear. That some happenings of a
surely serious nature had taken place the night before was certain. What
were they? Gradually my memory recalled them. And then I dressed. As I
was just ready for _dejeuner_ my cousin sent me word that he would like
to see me. I knew what it was about. Our interview was short. He was very
kind. He laid all the blame on himself for expecting that the method of
making marriages by arrangement would be a success where a youthful
Britisher was concerned. He, however, wished I should tell him all that
had happened since he had seen me at supper, and especially about my
meeting with Gustave.

I just told him--as I have told you, pointing out that the affair had
been quite harmless, though appearances were certainly against me. He
left the house and returned later on. He had seen Gustave. The
engagement, of course, was off. My escapade was looked upon as excusable.
I was young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, and permission
was graciously given me to see my late _fiancee_. This I did, and, I am
happy to say, she not only forgave me but we remained friends.

It suddenly dawned upon me that my leave was up and that I was due back
to duty at home. Don Carlos, while somewhat resenting the unfortunate
ending of his scheme, made allowances for me when the whole story was
related to him. He smiled a kindly smile as I expressed to him all my
regrets that I had failed to take advantage of his well-meaning efforts
in my behalf.

But then, what about Louise? What about Gustave? What should I do? The
solution came from Gustave himself. Next day I received an invitation
from him to a supper party at the Cafe d'Helder. Naturally I accepted. We
were to meet at a quarter to twelve, and my friend, Estelle's admirer,
was also asked. It was a merry party; just ten of us. The hour to say
"Good morning" arrived only too soon. For me it was not only "good
morning" but also "good-bye." I had to leave Paris the evening of that
day. My last but one good-bye was to Louise. I kissed the hands she gave
me; then she said, looking towards Gustave with smiling eyes, "One last
kiss for monsieur the lieutenant. N'est-ce pas, Gustave? Mais, oui. The
final. Pourquoi no