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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Secret of Toni - -Author: Molly Elliot Seawell - -Illustrator: George Brehm - -Release Date: December 19, 2021 [eBook #66975] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF TONI *** - - - - - - _The_ SECRET _of_ - TONI - - MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL - - _Author of - "The Victory," "The Sprightly Romance of Marsac," - "The Château of Montplaisir," etc._ - - ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE BREHM - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK MCMVII - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - _Published February, 1907_ - - - - -MISS SEAWELL'S BOOKS. - - - CHÂTEAU OF MONTPLAISIR. - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25. - THE VICTORY. - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. - - - YOUNG HEROES OF THE NAVY SERIES. - - MIDSHIPMAN PAULDING. - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.00. - LITTLE JARVIS. - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.00. - PAUL JONES. - Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth, $1.00. - DECATUR AND SOMERS. - Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth, $1.00. - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - - [Illustration: "Standing there ... gnawing his mustache."] - [Page 235.] - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - FACING - PAGE - - "Standing there ... gnawing his mustache" _Frontispiece_ - - "Not daring so much as to lift her eyes to the altar" 50 - - "Told him to go home to his mother and tell her - that she had an ass for a son" 82 - - "Giving Denise two whole sticks of candy" 102 - - "Had their last interview in the little cranny on the - bridge" 114 - - "Toni took out a single franc" 124 - - "Doing his specialty, a wonderful vaulting and tumbling - act" 136 - - "'This is what you took out of the man's pocket'" 146 - - Lucie 168 - - "There was a softness, almost a tenderness, in her - look" 176 - - "Saw that they were playing another game far more - interesting" 194 - - Denise 198 - - "The sergeant, got up as if he were on dress parade" 204 - - "Was it possible that this demure and correct person - ... was poking fun at him?" 224 - - "A corporal was Toni to become" 296 - - "Seated themselves directly opposite the newly married - pair" 306 - - "He stopped and peered over the rail of the bridge" 324 - - - - -THE SECRET OF TONI - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Toni's name was Antoine Marcel, but he was never called by it but once -in his life, and that was at his baptism, when he was eight days old. - -He had a shock of black hair and a snub nose, and the tan and freckles -on his face were an inch thick, but he had a pair of black eyes so soft -and bright and appealing that they might have belonged to one of the -houris of Paradise. His wide mouth was full of sharp, white teeth, and -when he smiled, which was very often, his smile began with his black -eyes and ended with his white teeth. - -At ten years of age Toni was a complete man of the world--of his world, -that is. This consisted of a gay, sunny little old garrison town, -Bienville by name, in the south of France. - -He had his friends, his foes, his lady-love, and also he had arranged -his plan of life. He knew himself to be the most fortunate person in -all Bienville. In the first place, his mother, Madame Marcel, kept -the only candy shop in the town, and Toni, being the only child of his -mother, and she a widow, enjoyed all the advantages of this envied -position. He had no father such as other boys had--Paul Verney, for -example, the advocate's son--to make him go to school when he would -rather lie on his stomach in the meadow down by the river, and watch -the butterflies dancing in the sun and the foolish bumblebees stumbling -like drunkards among the clover blossoms. - -Paul Verney was his best friend,--that is, except Jacques. Toni, owing -to his exceptional position, as the only son of the house of Marcel, -candy manufacturer, would have had no lack of friends among boys of -his own age, but he was afraid of other boys, except Paul Verney. -This was pure cowardice on Toni's part, because, although short for -his age, he was well built and had as good legs and arms and was as -well able to take care of himself as any boy in Bienville. Paul Verney -was a pink-cheeked, clean, well set up boy two years older than Toni, -and as industrious as Toni was idle, as anxious to learn as Toni was -determined not to learn, as honest with his father, the lawyer, as -Toni was unscrupulous with his mother about the amount of candy he -consumed, and as full of quiet courage with other boys as Toni was an -arrant and shameless poltroon about some things. Toni was classed as a -bad boy and Paul Verney as a good boy, yet the two formed one of those -strange kinships of the soul which are stronger than blood ties and -last as long as life itself. - -Toni, being of a shrewd and discerning mind, realized that Paul Verney -would have loved him just as much if Madame Marcel had not kept a candy -shop, and this differentiated him from all the other boys in Bienville, -and although Paul often severely reprobated Toni, and occasionally gave -him kicks and cuffs, which Toni could have resented but did not, he had -no fear whatever of Paul. - -Toni's other friend, Jacques, was a soldier. Jacques was about three -inches high and was made of tin. He had once been a very smart soldier, -with red trousers and an imposing shako, and a musket as big as -himself, but the paint had been worn off the trousers and shako long -ago; and as for the musket, only the butt remained. Jacques lived in -Toni's pocket and he was even more intimate with him than with Paul -Verney. There were seasons when Paul Verney's kicks and cuffs caused a -temporary estrangement from him on Toni's part, but there was never any -estrangement between Toni and Jacques. Jacques never remonstrated with -Toni, never contradicted him, never wanted any share of the candy which -Toni abstracted under his mother's nose and ran down in the meadow to -munch. There were some things Toni could say to Jacques that he could -not say to any human being in the world, not even to Paul Verney, and -Jacques never showed the least surprise or disgust. It is a great thing -to have a perfectly complaisant, unvarying friend always close to one, -and such was Jacques to Toni. - -Toni had heard something about the war which occurred a long time ago, -when the soldiers went a great way off from Bienville to a place called -Russia, where it was very cold. In Toni's mind, Jacques had been to -that place, and that was where he lost the red paint off his trousers, -and the black paint off his shako, and the barrel of his musket. Toni -had a way of talking to Jacques, and imagined that Jacques talked -back to him, a notion which, when Toni repeated what Jacques had said -to him, Paul Verney thought quite ridiculous. Jacques told Toni long -stories about that cold place called Russia. Toni knew that there was -another place, very hot, called Algeria, and Jacques had been there, -too. Jacques had been everywhere that the soldiers had been, and he -told Toni long tales about these places in the summer nights, when -Toni was in his little bed under the roof, with the stars peeping -in roguishly at the window, and Madame Marcel's tongue and knitting -needles clacking steadily down stairs at the open door of the shop. And -on winter days, when Toni left home for school and changed his mind and -went snow-balling instead, Jacques encouraged him by telling him that -it was very like Russia. - -Toni also found another use for Jacques. When he wished to say things -which his mother occasionally and properly cuffed him for, he could -talk it all out with Jacques. This seemed supremely absurd to Paul -Verney and the other boys in the neighborhood, notably the five sons -of Clery, the tailor, who jeered at Toni when they discovered his -relations with Jacques. But Toni was as insensible to ridicule as to -reproof. The only thing that really moved him was when his mother had -rheumatism and her knees swelled. Then Toni would cry as if his heart -would break, the big tears running down his dirty face as he sobbed -and buried his fists in his hair, and would not be comforted, even -though his mother could sit in her chair by the stove, and stir the -candy kettle, and would give him the kettle to lick, after she had -poured the candy out. But this was never more than once or twice a -year, and the rest of the time Toni was as happy and as free from care -as the birdlings in spring that sang under the linden trees in the park. - -Toni had already arranged a marriage of convenience for himself, which -was of the most advantageous description. Across the street from Madame -Marcel's shop was the baking establishment of Mademoiselle Duval, and -Denise, the niece and idol of Mademoiselle Duval, was just two years -younger than Toni and as pretty as a pink and white bonbon--in fact, -she looked not unlike a bonbon. She had very pink cheeks, and very -blue eyes, and a long plait of yellow hair, like the yellow candy of -_mélasse_ which Madame Marcel made every Saturday morning. - -Denise was as correct as Toni was incorrect. She always said, "_Oui, -Monsieur_," and "_Non, Madame_," in the sweetest little voice -imaginable, with her eyes cast down and her plump hands crossed before -her. Not a hair of her blond head was ever out of place, and the -blue-checked apron which extended from her neck to her heels was as -speckless as the white muslin frock she wore in church on Sundays. She -was the most obedient of children, and Madame Marcel, when she wept and -scolded Toni for his numerous misdeeds, often told him that she wished -he were only half as good as Denise Duval, who had never disobeyed -her aunt in her life. Toni smiled mysteriously whenever his mother -said this, and chuckled inwardly at something known only to Jacques -and himself, namely, that when he grew to be a man he meant to marry -Denise. What could be better than the combination of a candy shop and a -cook shop and bakery? - -And then there were other advantages connected with the match. Many -of the little girls that Toni knew had large and dangerous-looking -fathers, some of them soldiers with fierce mustaches, and these fathers -sometimes kicked and cuffed idle little boys who should have been at -school or at home instead of lying in the meadow or loitering upon the -bench under the acacia tree by Mademoiselle Duval's shop, inhaling the -delicious odors of the bakery kitchen. Denise had a father who was, -indeed, large and dangerous-looking and was a soldier, too; nay, a -sergeant, and had the fiercest mustache Toni had ever seen, but he only -came to Bienville once a year for a few days on his annual leave, and -seemed to Toni a most irrational and singular person. For although he -could, if he wished, have eaten all the cakes in his sister's shop, -Toni never saw him so much as look at one of them. - -On this annual reappearance of Sergeant Duval, Toni kept carefully out -of the way. Once when he was hiding under the counter of the shop he -had overheard the sergeant asking Madame Marcel why she did not make -that little rascal of hers go to school, and when Madame Marcel, a -pretty, plump widow of forty, tearfully admitted that she could not, of -herself, manage Toni, the sergeant promptly offered to give Toni a good -thrashing as a favor to Madame Marcel. This, Madame Marcel, in a panic, -declined, and then the sergeant made a proposition still more shocking -to Toni's feelings. - -"Then why, Madame," he said gallantly, twirling his mustache, "do you -not marry again? If I were young and handsome enough I should offer -myself, and then, I warrant you, I would make that young rogue of yours -behave himself." - -Whether this were an offer or not, Madame Marcel could not determine. -She might have fancied the dashing, fierce-looking sergeant, with -his five medals on his breast, but that proposition to thrash Toni -robbed the proposal of all its charm. And besides that, Madame Marcel, -although she praised Denise, felt a secret jealousy of the little -girl's perfections. Toni, as a rule, was less afraid of soldiers than -any other people, especially if they were cavalrymen, for Toni dearly -loved horses and was not the least cowardly about them, and felt a -secret bond of sympathy between himself and all who had to do with the -cult of the horse. - -Bienville had been a place of considerable military consequence, in -the old, far-off days, and still retained evidences of having had ten -thousand troops quartered there in long rows of tumble-down barrack -buildings. But not much remained of this former consequence except the -old barracks, a hideous war monument in the public square, and a very -grim old woman, the widow of a soldier in the Napoleonic Wars. Toni -regarded the monument and old Marie, in her mob cap and spectacles, -sitting proud and stern on a bench in the public square, as belonging -to each other. All the soldiers, and even the officers, saluted old -Marie as they passed--tributes which were received with proud composure. - -Everything else in the town of Bienville was gay and cheerful, except -the monument and old Marie. It was now garrisoned by one cavalry -regiment only, and was a depot for horses and cavalry recruits. There -was a big riding-school with a tan-bark floor, where the new recruits -were broken in and taught to ride. It was Toni's delight to crawl in by -the window or the small side door, and, hiding under a pile of horse -furniture in a corner, watch the horses gallop around, their hoofs -beating softly on the tan-bark, their eyes bright and glistening, their -crests up, and their coats shining like satin with much currying at the -hands of brawny troopers. - -Toni did not know what it was to be afraid of a horse, and loved -nothing better than to hang about the barracks stables and -riding-school and take cheerfully the cuffs and kicks he got from the -soldiers for being in the way. Especially was this true on Sundays -when he did not have Paul Verney's company, for Paul went to church -obediently, while Toni, after submitting to be washed and dressed -clean, was almost certain to run away, disregarding his mother's -frantic cries after him, and spend the whole morning in the delightful -precincts of the barracks stables. Jacques liked it, too, and told Toni -it reminded him of those glorious old days when his trousers and shako -were new and he carried his musket jauntily, in the long red line that -set out for Russia. So Toni haunted the barracks stables to please -Jacques as well as himself. - -One glorious and never-to-be-forgotten day, a good-natured trooper had -hoisted Toni on the back of a steady-going old charger, who knew as -much about teaching recruits to ride as any soldier in the regiment. -The old charger, being offended at finding the small, wriggling object -upon his back, took it into his head, for the first time since his -colthood, to plunge and kick violently, and ended by bolting out of the -barracks yard and making straight across the edge of the town, through -the meadow to the old stone bridge that spanned the river. The trooper, -who had meant to oblige Toni, suddenly realized that the boy was the -only son of his mother and she a widow. Jumping on another horse, he -galloped after Toni, down the stony street, into the green lane and -across the bridge. - -The old charger, who was eighteen years old, gave out at the end of the -bridge and came down to a sober trot. He had not, with all his efforts, -got rid of the small, wriggling object on his back. As for Toni, he -had the time of his life. It was the one full draft of riotous joy -that he had tasted. It was better even than licking the candy kettle -on Saturday mornings. The wild flight through the air, as it seemed to -Toni, the snorting breath of the old charger, the delicious sense of -bumping up and down, lifted him into an ecstasy. When the trooper came -up the horse was sedately browsing by the wayside, and Toni, with his -arms clasped around the horse's neck and his black head down on his -mane, was in a little Heaven of his own. The trooper, who had expected -to find Toni lying by the roadside, mangled, was immensely relieved and -swore at him out of pure joy, and, as a reward for not having got his -neck broken, allowed Toni to ride the old charger back into the town. -This was not to be compared with that wild flight through space, that -glorious bumping up and down, that sense of delight in feeling the -horse panting under him; but it was something. - -Toni, trotting soberly home, concluded that he would not tell his -mother, but he meant to tell Jacques all about it, and, putting -his hand in his pocket, Jacques was not there! Oh, what agony was -Toni's then! He burst into a fit of weeping, and, rushing back to the -riding-school, crawled around frantically everywhere the troopers -would let him go, searching for his loved and lost Jacques. The story -of his ride had got out by that time and he was not kicked and cuffed -when he searched, with streaming eyes and loud sobs, for his dearly -loved Jacques. But Jacques could not be found, not even along the stone -street, nor by the lanes, nor across the old stone bridge, and the day -grew dark to Toni. He searched all day, and when he went home at night -and told his mother of his loss, Madame Marcel wept, too. It was no -good to promise him a whole company of tin soldiers. They were only tin -soldiers, but Jacques was his friend, his confidant, his other self, -his oversoul. Toni cried himself to sleep that night. It was so lonely -up in the little garret without Jacques! And Toni knew that Jacques -was lonely without him. Toni pictured poor Jacques, alone and forlorn, -lost in the tan-bark, or trampled under foot in the street, or floating -down the darkling river, or perhaps being chewed up by the goats that -browsed on the other side of the bridge. In the middle of the night -Madame Marcel was awakened by Toni's groans and cries. - -"Oh, mama, mama!" he cried, "how lonely Jacques must be! What is -he thinking of now? He has no musket to take care of himself. Oh, -mama!"--and then Toni howled again. - -The next day Toni was up at dawn searching for his beloved. He searched -all the morning, but he could not find the lost one. When he came home -to dinner at twelve o'clock, he met Paul Verney, and Paul saw by Toni's -woebegone look and tear-stained face that some calamity had befallen -him. Toni had looked forward with triumphant pleasure to telling Paul -about that wild ride on the old horse's back, but he could give it no -thought. Paul was kind and sympathetic and understood Toni's sorrow, -which was of some little comfort to the bereaved one. While the two -boys sat together on the bench under the acacia tree, close to Madame -Marcel's shop, up came little Denise, as neat and pink and white as -ever. One of her hands was closed, and, as she approached Toni, she -said, in the sweetest small voice in the world: - -"Toni, is this yours? I found it in the street,"--and, opening her -little hand--oh, joy!--there was Jacques, his shako a little crooked, -one of his legs out of plumb, but it was Jacques. Toni, without a word -of thanks, seized Jacques, and, rushing off, flew to his favorite spot -for meditation--a little corner on one of the abutments of the old -stone bridge. Once there, he kissed Jacques and held him to his breast, -and told him of the heart-breaking search made for him, and Jacques, -as usual, was silently sympathetic and understood all that Toni had -suffered. - -Meanwhile Paul Verney, ashamed for Toni's want of manners in not -thanking Denise and all unaware of the great wave of gratitude that was -surging through Toni's whole being, went into the shop and told Madame -Marcel of Toni's good fortune. Madame Marcel was so overjoyed that she -not only invited Paul to help himself to whatever he wanted in the way -of sweets, but ran out and, catching Denise in her arms, kissed her -and brought her into the shop and invited her, as she had invited Paul -Verney, to select what she wished. Denise, with characteristic modesty, -took two small sticks of candy, but Madame Marcel gave her, as well as -Paul, a large bag of very beautiful bonbons. - -It was late in the afternoon before Toni appeared, his eyes shining -like the stars that peeped in at his little window, his wide mouth -showing all his white teeth. Madame Marcel took him by the hand, and -they went over with state and ceremony to thank Denise for restoring -the loved and lost Jacques. Toni felt indignant that Mademoiselle -Duval, a tall, thin, elderly, heartless, maiden lady, should laugh -at Jacques when Toni displayed him, and tell Madame Marcel she could -have bought a couple of boxes of tin soldiers for one-half the bonbons -she had given Denise. But Toni had known all the time that very few -grown people know anything about boys, and was simply filled with -contempt for Mademoiselle Duval. She was thin and ugly, too, not round -and plump like his own mother, and had the bad taste to prefer clean, -well-mannered little girls to dirty and greedy boys. Up to that time, -Toni's feelings toward Denise had been purely of a mercenary character, -but from the day she restored Jacques a little seedling sentiment -sprang up in Toni's heart; the great master of all passions had planted -it there. It was something like what he felt for Paul Verney--a sense -of well-being, even of protection, when Denise was near. She had acted -the part of a guardian angel, she had restored Jacques to him, and she -did not seem to mind his dirty face and grimy hands. She acquired a -bewitching habit of dividing with Toni the stale apple tarts her aunt -gave her, and, beckoning to him across the street, she would have him -sit by her on the bench under the acacia tree and always give him at -least two-thirds of the tarts. - -A few days after the tragedy of Jacques' loss and return, Sergeant -Duval, Denise's father, appeared for his annual visit to Bienville. -The story of Jacques was told to him, and when he came over to pay his -call of ceremony on Madame Marcel, he was so rude as to twit Toni about -Jacques. Toni, much displeased at this, retired to his usual place of -refuge under the counter, and concluded that when he married Denise he -would contrive to be absent during Sergeant Duval's annual visit. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Paul Verney was twelve years old, and had never had any affairs of -the heart, like Toni. But one June afternoon, in the same summer when -Toni had lost and recovered Jacques, and had succumbed to the tender -passion, fate overtook Paul Verney in the person of Lucie Bernard, the -prettiest little creature imaginable, prettier even than Denise and -very unlike that small piece of perfection. Paul, who was very fond of -reading, took his book, which happened to be an English one, to the -park that afternoon of fate, and was sitting on a bench, laboriously -puzzling over the English language, when a beautiful little girl -in blue, with a gigantic sash and large pale blue hat, with roses -blushing all over it, under which her dark hair fell to her waist, came -composedly up to him and said: - -"Let me see your book." - -Paul was so astonished at being addressed by a young lady, under the -circumstances, that he promptly handed over his book, and Lucie, -seating herself on the bench, proceeded to read it. Paul was surprised -to see that the English book, through which he had been painfully -spelling his way, seemed perfectly easy to Lucie, who, without a -moment's hesitation, read on, remarking casually to Paul: - -"I can read English as well as I can read French. My mother was an -American, you know, and Americans speak English." - -Paul did not know the piece of family history thus confided to him, -nor, indeed, did he know anything about this little nymph, but he -thought in his honest little heart that she was the most charming -vision his boyish eyes had ever rested on. He admired her dainty little -slippers, her silk stockings, her general air of fashion, but blushed -at finding himself sitting on the same bench with her, particularly -as he saw his father the gray-haired advocate, Monsieur Paul Verney, -approaching. He was just about to sneak away, leaving his book in -the hands of the fair brigand, when a fierce-looking English nursery -governess suddenly descended upon them, and, seizing Lucie by the arm, -carried her off. The governess threw Paul's book down on the gravel -path, and Paul picked it up. - -Somehow, the book seemed to have a different aspect after having -been held in the charming little fairy's hands. Paul was possessed -by a wholly new set of emotions. He longed to tell some one of this -startling adventure--a little girl planting herself on the bench by him -and taking his book from him without the least embarrassment or even -apology. What very strange little girls must those be whose mothers -were American! Paul had plenty of friends among the boys of his own age -and class, and among his school-mates, but he had never confided in any -of them as he did in Toni Marcel. So presently, wandering down by the -bridge where he was certain to find Toni at this hour of the day, he -saw his friend perched in the little cranny which he called his own, -on the bridge above the dark and rippling water. Two small boys could -be squeezed into this place and Paul Verney, climbing up, sat side by -side with Toni, and, with his arm around his friend's neck, bashfully -but delightedly told Toni and Jacques, who, of course, heard everything -that was told to Toni, all about this beautiful dream-like creature he -had seen in the park. Then Toni said, without any bashfulness at all: - -"I have got a sweetheart, too--it is Denise; some day I am going to -marry her, and in the morning we will eat candy at mama's shop, and in -the afternoon we will eat cakes at Mademoiselle Duval's shop." - -Toni's eyes, as he said this, shone with a dark and lambent light. -Paul Verney, on the contrary, had a pair of ordinary light blue eyes -through which his honest, tender soul glowed. He was the most romantic -boy alive, but all his romantic notions he had carefully concealed -from every human being until then. A dream had come into his boyish -mind, not of munching bonbons and stuffing cakes, such as Toni's -practical mind had conceived, but a dream of the beautiful Lucie -grown up, dressed in a lovely white satin gown, with a tulle veil -and orange blossoms, such as he had once seen a young lady wear when -she was married to a dashing lieutenant in a dazzling uniform. Paul -meant to be a dashing lieutenant in a dazzling uniform some day, and -then the vision of Lucie, stealing instantly into his mind, seemed to -fill a place already prepared for her there. The two lads sat, Paul's -closely-cropped, reddish hair resting upon Toni's disheveled black -shock, and felt very near together indeed. - -"But how will you ever see mademoiselle again?" said Toni to Paul. - -Paul's face grew sad. - -"I don't know how I ever shall," he said. "I never had a girl speak to -me before, and I never played with a girl--I don't think it's proper. -And the English governess was so cross to Lucie--for so she called her. -But I shall walk every day in the park, and perhaps I shall see her -again." - -Paul was as good as his word and the very next afternoon walked in -the park by himself. He was a neat boy always, but that day his face -shone with scrubbing, and he had on his best sailor suit of white -linen, and his little cane in his hand. It was about four o'clock in -the afternoon, and even the shady paths of the park glowed with a -beautiful, mysterious, green light. As Paul walked along, he heard a -whisper in his ear. It was Toni, who had crept up from behind a clump -of shrubbery and said to him: - -"There she is, just down that path, sitting with Captain and Madame -Ravenel and holding Madame Ravenel's hand." - -Paul, following the path, came at once on the bench where sat his -divinity, as Toni had described. He doubted if he would have had the -courage to bow to her, but Lucie called out: - -"Oh, that is the nice little boy who was reading the English book -yesterday." - -Paul, blushing up to the roots of his reddish hair, made three bows, -one to Madame Ravenel, one to Lucie, and one to Captain Ravenel. Madame -Ravenel returned his bow, as did the captain, with much gravity, and -Paul passed on, his heart beating with rapture. He had quite often -seen the Ravenels and knew them by name. They were apparently the only -sad-looking persons in all Bienville. They lived in a small, high, -gloomy, old house with a garden at the back, just around the corner -from the little street in which Madame Marcel had her shop. Captain -Ravenel was a retired officer, but no one ever saw him talking with any -of the officers of the garrison, nor was he ever known either to enter -any of their houses or to welcome any officers to his house. - -Madame Ravenel was the most beautiful woman in Bienville. She was about -thirty, but so sad-looking that she seemed much older. She always wore -black--not widow's black or mourning, but black gowns which, although -very simple, had an air of elegance that set off her rare beauty -wonderfully. Paul had seen her nearly every day since the Ravenels -first came to Bienville three years before, but he did not remember -ever having seen Lucie until that glorious hour when she burst on -his dazzled vision and took his book away from him. From the time he -could first remember seeing Madame Ravenel he had never passed her -without a feeling coming into his boyish soul like that when he saw -the moon looking down on the dark water under the bridge, or heard the -melancholy song of the nightingale in the evening. He had confided this -feeling to Toni, who answered that both he and Jacques felt the same -way when they saw Madame Ravenel. There was something sad, beautiful, -touching and interesting about her. Paul could not put it into words, -but he felt it, as did many other people. - -Madame Ravenel went to church every morning, and when Paul was dressing -himself in his little bedroom, off from his father's and mother's -room, he could always see her returning from church. And what was most -remarkable to Paul, Captain Ravenel was always either with Madame -Ravenel or not far behind her. He did not go into the church, but, with -a book or a newspaper in his hand, walked up and down outside until -Madame Ravenel appeared, when he would escort her home. And so it was -almost always the case, when Madame Ravenel appeared on the street that -Captain Ravenel was not far away. It would seem as if he kept within -protecting distance. He was a soldierly-appearing man, serious-looking, -his hair and mustache slightly gray. - -Madame Ravenel was always beautiful, always sad, always gentle, and -always in black. Paul had noticed, in passing the church sometimes, -that Madame Ravenel never went beyond the entrance and never sat down, -even on Sundays. She only went a few steps inside the church door, and -Paul asked his mother why this was. Madame Verney shut him up shortly -with that well-known maxim that little boys should not ask questions. -Sometime after that, Paul, still wondering about Madame Ravenel, asked -his father why she looked so sad, and why Captain Ravenel never stopped -and laughed and talked with the officers walking the streets, or dining -at the cafés, or strolling in the park, and Monsieur Verney gave him -the same reply as Madame Verney, which was most discouraging. - -This, of course, did not cause Paul's interest in the Ravenels to -abate in the least. It only convinced him that they had some strange -and interesting story, such as having found a pot of gold somewhere, -or having had their only child stolen from them, or some of those -delightfully romantic tales which a twelve-year-old boy can imagine. He -was no less interested in Lucie on finding that she belonged in some -way to Madame Ravenel. He had walked on a considerable distance in the -park, and was trying to screw up his courage to turn around and walk -back past the bench where Lucie sat, when he suddenly found her at -his side. Her dark eyes glowed brightly and she was tiptoeing in her -delight. - -"I know all about you," she said triumphantly. "You are Paul Verney, -the advocate's son. I like little boys very much--very much--but I -never have a chance to see anything of them. However, just now I began -to chase a butterfly and my sister Sophie did not call me back. But -you are the butterfly,"--and at this she burst into a ripple of impish -laughter. - -Paul was so surprised that he did not have time to be shocked at the -boldness on the part of this young lady of ten years, but his heart -began to thump violently and he was trembling when he said to her: - -"But aren't you afraid to leave your sister?" - -"Not in the least," replied Lucie airily. "I am half American, and -American children are not afraid of anything, so Harper, my nursery -governess, says. What can happen to me? And besides that, I have always -had my own way--that is, almost always--I had it about coming to see my -sister Sophie. Would you like me to tell you about it?" - -Paul was only too charmed to hear anything Lucie might tell him, -although in a panic for fear the fierce-looking English nursery -governess might appear. Lucie, without further ado, seated herself with -him on the ground and, sticking her little slippered feet out on the -grass, began, with the air of Scheherazade, when with confidence she -turned her matchless power on the bridegroom who meant to murder her -next morning: - -"Sophie, you know, is my sister, although she is much older than I am. -We had the same papa, but not the same mama, but Sophie was just like a -mama to me after my own mama died. She was married then to another man -named Count Delorme. How I hated him! He was so cross--cross to me and -cross to Sophie and cross to everybody. He had a son, too, when Sophie -married him, and that boy--Edouard was his name--was horrid, just like -Count Delorme. I lived with Sophie then, and once a year I would go and -visit my Grandmother Bernard. She is very tall and handsome and always -wears black velvet or black satin and looks very fierce. Everybody is -afraid of her except me. But she isn't really in the least fierce, and -I have my own way with her much more than I have with Sophie. All that -grandmama can do is to scold and say, 'Oh, you little American, what am -I to do with you? You need more strictness than any French child I ever -knew,' and then she lets me do as I please." - -Lucie stopped here and cast a side glance at Paul. She possessed the -art of the story-teller and wanted to know whether Paul was interested -in what she was telling him. Paul was so much interested in Lucie -that he would have listened with pleasure to anything she said, but -the beginning of what she was telling him sounded like a book, and he -listened with eagerness. Lucie, seeing this, proceeded. Like many -other people, she enjoyed being the heroine of her own tale, and it -lost nothing in the telling. - -"Well, I used to like this visit to my grandmother--she has a -big château, larger than the commandant's house, five times as -large--bigger than the Hotel de Ville." - -Lucie opened her arms and hands wide to show Paul the enormous size of -the Château Bernard. - -"And then she has such beautiful things--so many servants, carriages, -horses, chandeliers, and gardens--the most beautiful gardens, and a -park ten times as large as this." - -Paul listened to this somewhat coldly. He did not like bragging and -could not understand the innocent, imaginative delight which Lucie took -in describing a pretty château. - -"I used to love to go there and visit grandmama when I lived with -Sophie. We lived in another place--a great big city called Châlons. -But I loved being with Sophie best. She was not at all like what she -is now, but she was the gayest person in Châlons. She wore beautiful -pink gowns, and white hats, and feathers, and went to balls every -night, but she always had time to look after me. She used to take me -in the carriage with her every afternoon to drive, and before she went -to a ball she always saw me undressed and in my bed and came to tell -me good night. And she looked over my lessons and made me practise my -music and did everything for me, just as the other little girls' mamas -did for them. Then something happened--I don't know what it was--it -was something dreadful, though, and I remember the day. It rained very -hard, and Captain Ravenel came in the afternoon and was sitting in the -drawing-room with Sophie, and Count Delorme came in, and there was a -terrible noise, and the door came open, and Count Delorme struck Sophie -with his fist hard, and Captain Ravenel caught her in his arms. I was -leaning over the baluster, and then Harper ran down, and carried me -off, and would not let me go near Sophie, though I heard her crying -outside the door, and I cried inside the door just as hard as I could. -The next day Harper--that is my nursery governess that takes care of -me now and dragged me away yesterday--came and took me in a carriage -to the railway station, without letting me say good-by to Sophie, and -carried me off to my grandmama's château." - -Paul was interested enough now. Lucie's story sounded more and more -like a story out of a book. - -"When I came to the château, my grandmother--she is Sophie's grandmama -just as much as she is mine--kissed me, and hugged me, and told me I -was to live there, but I was very angry because I hadn't seen Sophie to -say good-by even, and I kept asking why Sophie didn't come to see me -or send for me or even write me a letter. I used to write her letters -myself--you see, I am ten years old and I can write very well--and I -gave them to grandmama to send to Sophie, but I found a whole bunch -of my letters half-burned in the grate in grandmama's room. Then I -saw they were deceiving me, so I wrote a letter and I stole a postage -stamp, and I knew how to address it to Sophie, but I got no reply. Then -I stole some more postage stamps, and wrote some more letters, but I -never heard anything about Sophie. I had a governess and music-master, -but grandmama never made me study or practise my music as Sophie had -done. She let me do everything I wanted except to see or hear from -Sophie. No matter what I asked for, grandmama first refused and then -she got it for me. She bought me the finest doll in Paris and a -little pony and wicker phaeton, and used to take me to the circus--my -grandmama lives near Paris, you know--and gave me five francs of my own -to spend every Saturday. But I wanted Sophie. At night I would think -about her, and cry and cry, and then grandmama would have me put in -her bed and she would cry, too, but she would not let me see Sophie. -At last I couldn't eat anything--not even bonbons--and they sent for -the doctor, who said grandmama must take me to the sea-shore, but after -we came from the sea-shore I missed Sophie more and more, and I cried -every night and would not eat, and at last I told grandmama if she did -not let me see Sophie I would starve myself to death--I would never eat -anything--I would hold my breath until I died--or eat a cake of paint -out of my paint-box. Paint is poisonous, you know. Grandmama told me of -a little girl who died from eating paint out of her paint-box. At last -even the doctor grew frightened, and told grandmama if I did not see my -sister Sophie he was afraid I would be very ill, so then--this was two -summers ago--she let Harper bring me here, and I stayed a whole week -with Sophie. Captain Ravenel is her husband now, and not that hateful -Count Delorme, and I didn't know Captain Ravenel before, but I love -him now almost as much as I do Sophie. He is so kind and good, and not -a bit cross. Sophie told me that I must be satisfied with my week with -her, and must be good, and perhaps grandmama would let me come again, -and that when I went back to the Château Bernard I must eat and keep -well and not cry any more. I did as Sophie told me, but Sophie doesn't -know grandmama as well as I do. I begged her all last winter to let me -come and see Sophie again, and all this spring, and then this summer, -but she wouldn't let me, and then I found out how to manage grandmama." - -Paul listened to this with an interest which bordered, however, on -disapproval. He had never heard of small children managing their -elders, but Lucie had told him that she was half American, which might -account for anything. Paul had heard that the Americans were a wild -people, so perhaps even the children did as they pleased. Lucie drew up -her little silk-stockinged foot, and settled her skirts around her. - -"And how do you suppose I did it? I didn't eat anything for two days. -Grandmama was frightened to death. When I wouldn't eat, they left -cakes around, and beautiful little biscuit, but I knew what that was -for and wouldn't touch them; so after three days grandmama gave in and -told me that Harper might bring me to see Sophie, and so I came, and -I am to stay two whole weeks, and after this every time I wish to see -Sophie, all I will have to do is to stop eating, for that frightens -grandmama and she lets me have my own way." - -Paul eyed the bewitching Lucie still with some disapproval. - -"But do you think it is right to treat your grandmama so? Isn't she a -good grandmama to you?" - -"Oh yes, indeed," answered Lucie. "I love her very much, but not like -Sophie. You love your aunts and grandmama, but not like your mother." - -That was quite true, for Paul was as fond, in his quiet way, of his -mother and father, as Lucie, in her violent and demonstrative fashion -was of Sophie, or as Toni was curiously fond of Madame Marcel. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -While this conversation was going on, Toni, who had seen Lucie go -chasing after the butterfly, watched Captain and Madame Ravenel. Paul -had told him there was something mysterious about the pair, and Toni -was vaguely conscious of this strangeness, and felt in his childish, -ignorant way, like Paul, the charm of Madame Ravenel's touching beauty. -He heard Madame Ravenel say: - -"What can have become of the child?" and Captain Ravenel got up at once -to look for her, going a little way along the path down which Lucie had -disappeared. And then a strange thing happened before Toni's eyes. A -young officer coming by, with a waxed mustache and his cap set jauntily -on the side of his head, stopped directly in front of Madame Ravenel, -and looked at her with a smile which Toni did not at all understand, -but which made Madame Ravenel's pale face flush to the roots of her -dark hair. Then the officer said, in an insolent yet insinuating voice: - -"May I be permitted, Madame, to admire your beauty a little -closer?"--and sat down on the bench without any invitation, throwing -his arm around the back of it so as almost to embrace Madame Ravenel, -who started up with a cry. At that moment, Captain Ravenel appeared at -the back of the bench. He was not so big a man as the young officer, -but, catching him by his collar, he threw him sprawling on the ground, -and then deliberately stamped upon him as he lay prostrate. Madame -Ravenel stood as still as a statue. The officer sprang from the ground -and would have flown at Captain Ravenel's throat, but two other -officers passing ran toward them and separated them, and pinioned the -arms of the officer to his side. Toni heard Captain Ravenel say, as he -handed his card to one of the officers: - -"I saw this man grossly insult this lady, and he shall pay for it with -his life,"--and then Madame Ravenel swayed a minute or two and fell -over in a dead faint. The two officers hurried their comrade off, -leaving Captain Ravenel alone with Madame Ravenel, who lay prone on the -grass, quite insensible. - -Toni remembered having once seen a lady faint in the park, and that -some one fetched water from the fountain close by, and dashed it on -her face, but he had nothing to fetch it in, having no hat on his -head--a hat being a useless incumbrance which he only wore on those -rare Sundays when his mother dragged him to church against his earnest -protests. But there was Paul Verney's hat. Toni scampered down the path -and in two minutes had found Paul. Lucie was just leaving him, and -Toni, mysteriously beckoning to him, whispered: - -"Fill your cap with water and take it to Madame Ravenel. She is lying -on the grass fainting like I saw a lady once, and somebody at that time -threw water on the lady." - -Paul, with the true lover's instinct to serve those loved by his adored -one, ran to the fountain and filled his cap with water, and then flew -as fast as his legs would carry him to the place where Madame Ravenel -still lay. Most of the water was spilled over his white linen suit, but -there was enough left to revive Madame Ravenel. - -"Thank you, my boy," said Captain Ravenel, as he dashed the water on -Madame Ravenel's face. Then she opened her eyes and tried to stand up. -Paul ran for more water, and came back with about a tablespoonful -left in his cap, while he himself was dripping like a water spaniel. -But Madame Ravenel, by that time, was sitting up on the bench, pale, -with her dark hair disheveled, and her hat still lying on the ground. -Captain Ravenel was supporting her. - -Paul Verney, being a gentleman at twelve years of age, felt -instinctively that having done a service it was his place to retire. He -received a tremulous "Thank you" from Madame Ravenel, who then asked -anxiously of Captain Ravenel: - -"Where is Lucie--what has become of the child?" - -But Lucie at that moment appeared, and Paul, longing to remain and hear -more interesting stories about grown people from Lucie's cherry lips, -still felt bound to retire, which he did. - -Toni, on the contrary, making no pretensions to being a gentleman, had -to see the whole thing played through. He concealed himself behind the -shrubbery, and saw with pain, but with deep interest, Madame Ravenel -weep a little--tears which Captain Ravenel tried to check. Then, in -a moment, Harper appeared and Lucie went off, her usually sparkling, -dimpling little face quite sorrowful; and then Madame Ravenel, leaning -on Captain Ravenel's arm, walked away. - -Toni stood and pondered these things to himself. What queer creatures -grown people were after all! Still they were very interesting if one -got rid of all their scrapes and muddles. What did that dashing-looking -officer want to put his arm around Madame Ravenel for? Toni, reflecting -on these things, took Jacques out and asked him about them, but Jacques -replied that he knew no more about them than Toni did. - -That night Toni, not being made to go to bed at eight o'clock like -Paul Verney and all other well-conducted boys, was prowling around the -garden of the commandant's house, of which the back was toward the -little street in which Madame Marcel lived. The garden gate was open, -and Toni sneaked in and seated himself on the grass, just outside the -window on the ground floor which looked into a room that was Colonel -Duquesne's study. - -Toni had an object in this. There was a great clump of gooseberry -bushes under this window, and Toni loved to gorge himself on Colonel -Duquesne's gooseberries. True, he could have had all the gooseberries -he wished from his mother, but they did not have the delicious flavor -of those surreptitiously confiscated from Colonel Duquesne's garden. -Toni was afraid of the commandant, as he was afraid of the monument in -the public square and of old Marie, and of everybody, in fact, except -his mother, and Paul Verney, and little Denise, and Jacques. But he -knew the garden much better than the commandant did, and his short legs -were quick enough to save him in case any one should come out of the -house. - -Toni saw, through the window, the two officers, who had separated the -other officer and Captain Ravenel, sitting in grave conversation with -the colonel. - -"It is most unfortunate!" said the colonel, a grave-looking, -gray-mustached man. "What could have induced Ravenel to come to -Bienville to live? It would seem to be the last place on earth that he -and Madame Ravenel would select." - -Then one of the other officers said to the colonel: - -"I understand that they came here principally on account of Madame -Ravenel's health, and besides, Ravenel owns the house in which they -live. It isn't much of a house, but I hear that Delorme spent every -franc of Madame Ravenel's money, and they have nothing but this house -and Ravenel's half-pay to live on, which probably accounts for their -being in Bienville. But I must say that they have kept themselves as -much out of sight as possible." - -"I knew Delorme," said the colonel, "and a more unprincipled scoundrel -never lived. It is a great pity that Ravenel didn't knock the fellow's -brains out on the day when Madame Delorme left Delorme. Nobody would -have been sorry for it. I have known both Ravenel and Madame Ravenel -for years, and they are the last people living that I should expect -to commit the folly they did, going off together and remaining two -or three weeks before they separated. It was a species of madness, -but they have paid dearly for it. I understand that Madame Ravenel is -tormented by religious scruples about her divorce." - -The colonel got up from his chair and walked up and down two or three -times. The vision of Sophie Ravenel in her triumphant beauty ten years -before, and the pale conscience-stricken Sophie of to-day, overwhelmed -him. He remembered Ravenel, spirited, gay, and caring for no other than -a soldier's life, and now cut off from all comrades, his life-work -ended. Surely these two had paid the full price for their three weeks' -desperate folly, of love, shame, rapture and despair. Then awakening -suddenly to the madness of what they had done, they had separated, -not to see each other again until Delorme had obtained a divorce; and -Sophie, after having been branded as a wife who had dishonored her -husband, was married to Ravenel, who, for her sake, had sacrificed all -his worldly prospects. The colonel was a strict moralist, but in his -heart he reckoned that there were many worse people in the world than -Sophie and Ravenel. The two officers sat silent while the colonel took -a couple of turns about the room, and then he sat down and spoke again: - -"But the question is--what are we to do about Creci?" - -"Creci swears," said the older of the two officers, "that Madame -Ravenel smiled at him as he passed and gave him an invitation to come -and sit by her." - -"I am afraid," said the colonel, in a very cold voice, as he shook the -ash from his cigar, "that Creci is mistaken." - -"Mistaken!" thought Toni to himself, "Creci was lying, pure and -simple." That Toni knew, for he had seen the whole transaction. - -"We are bound, under the circumstances," said Captain Merrilat, "to -take Lieutenant Creci's word for it. Naturally Madame Ravenel's word -can not be taken." - -Colonel Duquesne pondered for a while, stroking his mustache, and then -said: - -"Come to me in two days--I will see what can be done,"--and then, after -a little more talk, the two officers got up and went away, and Colonel -Duquesne strolled out in the garden where Toni was still behind the -gooseberry bushes. - -The colonel knew the Widow Marcel's boy and disapproved of him on -general principles, but did not suspect the little scamp was hidden -behind the gooseberry bushes which the colonel passed as he walked up -and down the dark path. As he turned to pass the third time, he heard -Tom's shrill, boyish voice piping out: - -"You know, Jacques, I saw it all--I was watching Captain and Madame -Ravenel, and I saw Captain Ravenel when he got up and went away--and -then the young officer came along, and Madame Ravenel wasn't looking -his way at all--she was looking down with her hands in her lap, and I -don't think she even saw the lieutenant until he came up to her quite -close and said something impudent to her, and then Madame Ravenel's -face got as red as red could be, and the lieutenant plumped himself -down as close to her as he could and threw his arm around the back of -the bench, and Madame Ravenel looked scared to death and jumped up, -and then Captain Ravenel came and caught the lieutenant by the collar -and threw him on the ground and wiped his foot on him, and you know, -Jacques, you saw that just as I did." - -The colonel stopped suddenly in his walk, and looking about, saw Toni's -little black head among the gooseberry bushes. He did not see the other -boy with whom Toni was talking, but he understood well enough what Toni -meant. Then Toni kept on: - -"Jacques, I tell you, Madame Ravenel wasn't even looking at the -lieutenant, and I know she hates him by the way she pushed him off when -he sat down by her." - -The colonel walked around the gooseberry bushes and there sat Toni on -the ground, but Jacques, whom the colonel innocently supposed to be -another boy, was not in sight, being then in Toni's pocket. - -"So, my lad," said the colonel, "you saw the fight between Captain -Ravenel and Lieutenant Creci?" - -But Toni, looking up at the colonel's short, soldierly figure and -determined air, was seized with one of those sudden panics which often -overcame him. He could not have said a word to save his life, with the -colonel's keen eyes fixed on him. So, jumping up and seizing hold of -Jacques in his pocket, Toni ran as fast as his legs would take him to -the garden gate, through the narrow street, and up into his own little -attic room, and did not feel safe until he was tucked in his own bed -with Jacques under the pillow to keep him company. - -It was the habit of the colonel to take a walk in the park very early -every morning directly after his breakfast coffee, and it was also -Captain Ravenel's practice to pass through the park at the same hour. -His, however, was not a pleasure stroll, but was for the purpose of -taking to the post-office some hundreds of envelopes which he addressed -every day for a pittance, with which to eke out his half-pay. The two -men had been friends in past days, although the colonel was much older -and higher in rank than Ravenel, but they passed each other morning -after morning without a word being exchanged, Ravenel gravely saluting -the colonel, and the colonel slightly returning the bow, and each man -felt a tug at his heart for the other man. - -Colonel Duquesne was a great stickler for the moralities, and Ravenel's -fall had been to him a terrible shock. He understood what little -Lucie, and Paul Verney, and Toni did not understand in the least, the -particular thing which had befallen Madame Ravenel. It was the old, sad -story of a villainous husband to a sensitive and dependent woman, of a -man a thousand times better than the husband loving the wife silently, -of hearing her unjustly accused in his presence, and even suffering -the indignity of a blow. That blow drove Sophie Delorme into Ravenel's -arms. It seemed to her, in the horror and shock of the moment, as if -there were no other place for her. She could not go to her grandmother, -Madame Bernard, who had arranged the match between Sophie and Delorme -and who had shut her eyes stubbornly to the wretchedness of the -marriage. Apart from Madame Bernard, Sophie was singularly alone in the -world. Her small fortune had been squandered by Delorme. She loved -Ravenel because she could not help it, and so these two poor souls, -like goodly ships driven against each other by storms and hurricanes, -to their destruction, this man and this woman were driven together, -driven to transgress the moral law, driven by the iron hand of fate -into a position, the last on earth that would have been expected of -them. - -The victory of passion and despair over honor had been brief. In three -weeks they recoiled from what they had done. Delorme had promptly begun -proceedings for a divorce and Ravenel had besought Sophie to repair -their fault as far as possible in the eyes of the world by marrying him -as soon as the decree of divorce should be granted. But Sophie was a -deeply religious woman and it seemed to her an increase of wrong-doing -to marry Ravenel. There was but one way out of it and Ravenel, by -employing one of the best ecclesiastical lawyers in France, discovered -that there were certain technicalities in the religious marriage -that Delorme had not complied with, and it was possible to have the -marriage, religious as well as civil, annulled. Only then did Sophie -consent to marry him. For her he had sacrificed his position in the -army, his standing in the world and his modest fortune, and had done it -as if it were a privilege instead of a sacrifice. - -No woman of Sophie Ravenel's lofty ideals could fail to appreciate -this, but neither could she forget that she had fallen from her high -estate. However she might strive to be happy, Ravenel could not but -see that she would live and die a conscience-stricken woman. She made -no moan, however, but secretly took on herself the whole sin. Ravenel -did the same, taking on himself all the blame. And so their married -life, although sad and colorless, was one of exquisite harmony. They -led a most retired life, rarely leaving their house except for Sophie's -early visit to the church and the walk in the park in the afternoons. -Whenever she appeared on the street, as Paul often had noticed, Ravenel -was never far away, and Sophie, had any affront been offered her, had -his protection close at hand. To them one place was the same as another -and, as Colonel Duquesne had imagined, necessity had much to do with -their settling in Bienville. An officer on half-pay has not much choice -of residence, and the little old house in Bienville at least gave them -a shelter. So they had come, bringing their remorse with them, likewise -their love. - -The wages of sin in their case was not luxury. They lived as poorly -as gentle people could live and exist. They kept no servant, and as -it was painful for them to have to dine at the cafés, Sophie, with -the assistance of one old woman who was still active at seventy-five, -prepared all their meals. With her own hands she made those cheap and -simple black gowns whose fit and style were the despair and admiration -of the professional dressmakers in Bienville. In this matter of her -dress and appearance, Sophie retained all the pride which had ever been -hers when she was, as little Lucie said, the gayest and best-dressed -woman in Châlons. It was a part of a duty that she owed Ravenel, for -with the fine generosity of a woman she reckoned herself much in -Ravenel's debt, and felt she should lose as few as possible of those -charms that had won him to his downfall. She never lost her appearance -of elegance, by dint of an ingenuity, little short of miraculous. She -uttered no complaining word, and no day passed over her head that she -did not tell Ravenel he was the best man in the world. - -There was a wheezy old piano in the little house, and on this she -played to him the airs that had charmed him in the days at Châlons. She -was externally the most modest and reserved woman in Bienville,--and -who shall say that she was not the same in her soul? Be not too free, -you virtuous people, to condemn this poor lady; there are sinners and -sinners, if you please. - -As for Captain Ravenel, his wrong-doing had placed on him, according -to his way of thinking, an obligation of a life most spotless. He had -always been, as Colonel Duquesne had said, a man of high character, but -when love and misery and fate had made him, in a way, the destroyer -of the woman he loved and respected most on earth, it raised him to -a pitch of heroic virtue. Like Sophie, no drudgery was too great for -him and when she was preparing their modest dinner, Captain Ravenel -was digging in the garden. By the labor of his own hands, he raised -the most beautiful pease, potatoes and melons that had ever been seen. -He would have worked every hour of the day, except that he felt as -Sophie did with regard to him, that he must not lose all of those -graces and habits of a gentleman which had first made her love him. -In the afternoon he dressed himself in his well-brushed frock coat -and together he and Sophie took a walk, and sat and listened to the -band playing in the park. This was their chief recreation. At night -he sat up many hours addressing those envelopes and circulars which -he took to the post-office early in the morning and for which he was -paid a pittance. Like Sophie, no complaint escaped him, and for every -protestation of love and gratitude she made to him, he returned in -twofold. They were not happy--life had no happiness to give two souls -like theirs, situated as they were--but they would have died if they -had been torn apart. - -[Illustration: "Not daring so much as to lift her eyes to the altar."] - -It was a portion of Sophie's self-imposed punishment that she should -never go fully into a church, halting, as Paul Verney had noticed, just -within the door, and, like the publican, not daring so much as to lift -her eyes to the altar, but calling herself a sinner and feeling herself -to be the greatest sinner on earth. Another part of her punishment was -the separation from Lucie, the little half-sister whom she had attended -from the hour of her birth with a mother's care, and toward whom she -had taken a mother's place. But she made no complaint of this, nor of -anything else; and when Lucie, by her own ingenuity, had contrived to -come back to her, it brought a gleam of joy into Sophie's life such as -she had never expected to feel again. - -Madame Bernard remained unforgiving. As Lucie had truly said, although -as stern and uncompromising in looks as the monument in the public -square at Bienville and old Marie who sat on the bench and knitted -sternly, Madame Bernard was, at heart, a greater coward about people -than little Toni. She knew if she once saw Sophie everything would -be forgiven, and so she avoided seeing her, and dared not even write -to her. Little Lucie had had no real difficulty in accomplishing her -object of seeing Sophie by the means she had retailed to Paul, and -otherwise wrapped the stately Madame Bernard around her little finger. - -Lucie, who was accustomed to luxury, adapted herself with ingenuous -perversity to the plain way of living of the Ravenels. She even learned -to make omelettes herself, and with her little lace-trimmed gown tucked -up around her waist, to the horror of Harper, the nursery governess, -actually learned to broil a chop as well as Sophie could. - -Lucie was a child of many passions. Her attachment to Sophie was one -of the strongest, and Sophie alone, of everybody on earth, could bend -Lucie to her will,--that is, as long as they were together, for, -childlike, Lucie forgot all the gentle commands and recommendations -laid upon her by Sophie when they separated, and remembered few of the -admirable things which Sophie asked her to do. But she loved Sophie -with a determined constancy that none of Madame Bernard's blandishments -nor all the bonbons in Paris could change. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -At the hour when Colonel Duquesne and the two officers were discussing -Creci's insult to Sophie--for insult they all well knew it to -be--Sophie and Ravenel were sitting on their balcony after their -supper, and Lucie had been put to bed. Sophie had not spoken to Ravenel -of what had happened in the park since their agitated walk home, but -now she said timidly, placing her hand in his, in the soft purple -twilight which enveloped them, and through which the lights of the town -twinkled beneath them: - -"What do you think that man Creci will do?" - -"Prefer charges against me, I suppose," returned Ravenel, "but if he -does, I think he will get the worst of it. No one could believe that -you, Sophie, could give any encouragement to a man like that. Your life -here has been too prudent. No other woman, I believe, could have lived -with the beauty and natural gaiety that you possess, effacing herself -so completely, and all for me. What an evil hour for you, dearest, -that ever we met!" - -"Do not say that," cried Sophie. "If I had it all to live over again, I -would do as I have done except--except--" - -She buried her face in her hands. Ravenel, too, looked ashamed. To both -of them the iron entered into their souls at the recollection of the -first three weeks after Sophie left her husband. Then Sophie, raising -her head, presently said: - -"But it was an evil hour for you. I might have endured my fate, while -but for me you would have married happily, and be to-day where you -ought to be--in a good position, with your talents recognized and--" - -The two poor souls often talked together in this way, speaking frankly -to each other, and each taking the blame. They spoke a while longer, -each fearing and dreading the morrow, and then Sophie went to see that -Lucie was asleep in her little bed, while Ravenel went to his work of -addressing envelopes. - -Lucie was not asleep, as she should have been, but wide-awake and very -talkative. - -"Oh, Sophie," she said, when Sophie sat down by the bed in Lucie's -little room, "how glad I am that you are married to Captain Ravenel! -I like him so much better than Count Delorme. Sophie, I hated Count -Delorme!" - -"So did I," replied Sophie, her pale face flushing, and her tongue for -once committing an indiscretion. But the child was quite unconscious of -it. She hated Count Delorme herself, and saw every reason why Sophie -and every one else should hate him. - -"And Edouard," continued Lucie, "that hateful, hateful boy! Oh, I think -it is ever so much nicer as it is, and if only I could live with you, -and make omelettes every day, and have a little garden and dig in it -when Captain Ravenel is digging in the big garden, how much I should -like it, and then I could go and visit grandmama at the château." - -Sophie laid her head down on the pillow by Lucie, and kissed the -child's soft red lips. After all, how happy she could be but for that -terrible moral law which, because they had transgressed it, kept -thundering in her ears its maledictions. - -But no shame and no sorrow can wholly take away the joy of loving and -being loved as Sophie loved and was loved. - -Next morning, about seven o'clock, as Ravenel was walking through the -park to the post-office with his parcel of circulars, he came face to -face with Colonel Duquesne. The colonel, instead of passing him with a -stiff nod, halted before him, and said: - -"Good morning, Captain Ravenel." - -Ravenel was startled, but he replied, saluting respectfully: - -"Good morning, sir." - -"There is, I am afraid, some trouble ahead of you with regard to -Lieutenant Creci," said the colonel, speaking very deliberately. "I -wish to say now, from long knowledge of the lady in the case, that I -can not believe she committed the smallest impropriety, nor do I think -that Creci's word that she did so would carry the slightest conviction -to any person in Bienville; and whatever comes of it, the lady's name -must be kept out of the affair absolutely." - -Ravenel could have fallen upon his knees with gratitude when Colonel -Duquesne said this. The idea that Sophie's name should be dragged -into a public scandal was heart-breaking to him. The tears came into -his eyes, and he was about to extend his hand impulsively to Colonel -Duquesne, but changed his mind, and crossed his arms. - -He bowed, however, profoundly, and said: - -"I can not express to you, sir, how much I thank you for what you have -said. It is well-deserved by that lady, who is the most modest, the -most retiring, the purest-minded--" - -Ravenel stopped with a lump in his throat. The tears by that time -had dropped upon his dark, sunburned face. He brushed them away, but -Colonel Duquesne thought no less of him for those tears. - -"I am quite of your mind," he said quietly, "concerning that lady. The -circumstances are most unfortunate. I can express to you, privately, -a degree of sympathy which I can not do publicly, but believe me, no -man could be more anxious than I am to save that lady's feelings in -this affair. Captain Merrilat will wait on you this morning. I think -if you will agree to make him a very slight apology, everything can be -arranged, and, for my part, I pledge you my word, as Lieutenant Creci's -commanding officer, to use all the power I possess to induce him to -accept anything in the shape of an apology which you may offer." - -"But I can not apologize," blurted out poor Ravenel. "The lady in -question was sitting quietly on the bench, and did not even see Creci, -and he came up and spoke to her insultingly, and the lady became -embarrassed and alarmed, and then he sat down by her most impudently -and improperly, and attempted to throw his arm around her, and then I -caught him and thrashed him--and am I to apologize for that?" - -The colonel paused. The story which he had overheard that naughty -little boy of Madame Marcel's telling the night before in the garden -corresponded exactly with what Ravenel had said,--not that Ravenel's -word alone needed any corroboration with Colonel Duquesne. - -"Yes," he said, "you must say something which may be construed into an -apology. Not a man in the regiment sustains Creci's course, but for -reasons which you understand, the chief of which is the lady in the -case, it must be hushed up. I have arranged for you to meet Creci this -morning at my house and the affair shall be settled before me." - -Ravenel, with his soul in his eyes, looked at the colonel, who was a -man with a heart in his breast, even though he was a colonel; and then -the colonel held out his hand. Ravenel gripped it for a moment and -then hurried away through the park that he might not miss the morning -mail, for he was as careful and prompt in the performance of his duty -with regard to these circulars, which he addressed at next to nothing -a thousand, as if it had been the best-paid and most important work in -the world. - -But his heart was more joyful than it had been for many a day. He had -something pleasant to take back to Sophie. When he returned, and they -had their eleven o'clock breakfast together in the little garden, he -looked so cheerful that Sophie felt almost gay. They sat with Lucie at -the little round table with a white cloth on it, under a big acacia -tree. Close by them were a dozen tall oleanders in tubs, for Captain -Ravenel, turning his unusual skill in flowers to account, supplied most -of the cafés in town with their ornamental plants. Their breakfast was -simple, but very good, and Lucie triumphed in the production of the -omelette which was the work of her own hands. She was already lamenting -that in one week more she would have to go back to the Château Bernard, -and Madame Bernard's chef. - -"Oh, it is so nice to be with you here!" she cried, and then said, as -she had done two or three times before: "It is so much nicer than at -Châlons--and I hated Count Delorme!" - -As she spoke the name, Ravenel looked away, while poor Sophie blushed -and trembled, but Lucie, meaning to please her hosts, kept on: - -"When I am grown up, and get my money, I intend to come and live with -you, Sophie and Captain Ravenel. Harper says that when I am eighteen I -shall have a whole lot of money in America that grandmama can not keep -me out of, and that I can spend it as I like, and I will come and live -in Bienville and have a carriage and everything I want, but I think I -would like to stay in this house--it is small, but so very pleasant." - -"Harper should not tell you such things, Lucie," said Sophie. She -looked at Captain Ravenel. It is impossible to keep nursery governesses -and upper servants from gossiping,--how much had she told Lucie in the -past, and how much might she tell her in the future? - -Presently Lucie was sent away to practise on the piano, for it was a -part of Sophie's plan that, when Lucie returned to her grandmother -after these brief and forced visits, the child should show some -improvement. - -Then Ravenel told Sophie that as soon as he finished breakfast, he was -to go to Colonel Duquesne's house, and have the meeting with Creci, and -he repeated the colonel's chivalrous words to her. Sophie's pale face -flamed up. It was something in the arid waste of life to have known -two such men as the one before her and Colonel Duquesne, who would not -strike a woman when she was helpless before him, and who pitied the -weaknesses of the human heart. - -"But when it comes to apologizing," said Ravenel, grinding his teeth, -"what am I to say?--to say that I am sorry for having kicked him, when -I wished to kill him?" - -"Dearest," replied Sophie, "do what the colonel advises. He would not -counsel you to do anything against your honor." - -At twelve o'clock precisely, Ravenel presented himself at the colonel's -house. He was in his uniform, for, although retired, he was still an -officer. The soldiers saluted him respectfully, and the aides spoke to -him politely. Everybody felt sorry for Ravenel, and most honest and -brave men in his place would have done as he had. He was ushered into -the colonel's room, and there sat Colonel Duquesne and Creci, with his -two friends, the officers who had dragged Ravenel and himself apart in -the park. The colonel and others present bowed gravely to Ravenel, who -returned the bow and seated himself at the colonel's invitation, and -then after a little silence the colonel stated the case briefly, but -said at the end, with emphasis: - -"I think in every case of this sort, without impugning Lieutenant -Creci's word, the presumption is that a mistake has been made. Whatever -Lieutenant Creci thought about the lady in question, whose name must, -by no means, be mentioned, I feel sure that she was unconscious of -any attempt to attract his attention. We will proceed upon that -supposition, if you please." - -Creci's handsome, stupid face grew scarlet, Ravenel's dark skin turned -a shade darker, the other two officers looked impassive. Then the -colonel went on to say that he would recommend Captain Ravenel to make -an apology to Lieutenant Creci, and he would strongly urge Lieutenant -Creci to accept it. At that there was a long silence. Ravenel really -knew not how to apologize for having done what his honor and his -conscience and his inclination had told him was right to do. He blamed -himself for not having stamped his foot in Creci's face, and so marked -him for life. The pause became awkward while Ravenel was turning -these things over in his mind. At last, with the colonel's eye fixed -upon him commandingly, he mumbled something about regretting that the -occasion had arisen--the rest of it was lost in his mustache, for the -colonel, as soon as he heard the word regret, turned promptly to Creci. -There was a menace in Colonel Duquesne's eye--a look which commanded -obedience. Creci, inwardly raging, sullenly bowed, and Captain Merrilat -said quickly: - -"I think Lieutenant Creci accepts the apology, and we may consider the -affair as ended." - -Everybody present knew what Colonel Duquesne meant. He had known Sophie -when she was fresh from her convent school, had known her as the young -wife of an unfeeling and vicious man--he had known her at the moment -when her courage failed her, and she had left the hard and stony path -she had been traveling with Delorme to go on a path still hard and -stony with Ravenel. Colonel Duquesne was tender-hearted where women -were concerned, and felt in his soul that he could not have stood -Delorme as long as Sophie had stood him. All these things were working -in his mind when Ravenel and Creci and the two officers were rising and -making their formal adieus. - -Ravenel went home to Sophie and the two were almost gay over the result -of the affair which had been so baneful to them in the beginning. It -almost seemed to the two poor souls as if they had some friends left. -That very afternoon, when taking their one solitary indulgence--their -walk in the park--they passed the colonel, who bowed to Sophie quite in -the old way, although he did not speak. The colonel was a widower with -no daughters and, therefore, was quite safe in doing this, not having a -domestic court of inquiry ahead of him. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Lucie had only four days more to remain in Bienville, but, except for -the approaching parting from Sophie and Ravenel, they were indeed very -happy days to her. The child's active and aggressive little mind, which -was part of her American inheritance, dwelt on that charming vision -which Harper, with the usual indiscretion of servants and nursery -governesses, had shown her--that vision of all the money she wished to -spend, which would be hers at eighteen, with no one, not even Madame -Bernard, to interfere. - -Lucie enjoyed another stolen interview with Paul Verney, for this young -lady, at ten years of age, was a well-developed flirt and romanticist. -Not all her French training had been able to get the American out of -her, and she had with it all the generous impulses and the happy daring -with which the American child seems to be dowered. - -Paul Verney, in his afternoon walks, had the pleasure of bowing twice -to Captain and Madame Ravenel, but neither time was Lucie with them. -On the afternoon before Lucie left Bienville, she was walking with the -Ravenels, Harper, as usual, in the distance. Lucie, with the ingenuity -peculiar to her age and sex, determined to go on a search for Paul -Verney, and so arranged her plans with much art. - -She asked Sophie if Harper could take her to the fountain in the park -to see the little fishes swim in the basin. This reasonable proposal -being agreed to, Harper took Lucie by the hand, and off they went. Once -at the fountain, around which there were benches, Harper was sure to -find some of her colleagues, and Lucie, providing she reported at the -end of every ten minutes, was certain of an hour of liberty. - -Lucie utilized her first ten minutes by finding Paul Verney. There he -was, sitting on the same bench and reading the same English book as -on the first afternoon that she had spoken to him. When Paul saw his -lady-love approach he rose and blushed and smiled, and Lucie bowed and -smiled, without blushing, however. Seating herself on the bench, and -settling her fluffy white skirts around her, she said to Paul with a -queenly air: - -"You may sit down." Then she added, quite seriously, "I am going away -to-morrow." - -Paul's boyish heart gave a jump. He was secretly very much afraid of -Lucie, and disapproved of her--but she was so fascinating, and life at -Bienville would seem so different after she went away. He stammered: - -"I am sorry, Mademoiselle." - -"But I shall come back," said Lucie in a sprightly tone. "You see, it -is so very easy to frighten grandmama. All I have to do is to stop -eating for two days, and it really isn't so bad at all." - -Paul Verney, although not a greedy youngster like Toni, thought that to -go without eating for two days was a very severe test of affection, but -it was like everything else about Lucie, dashing and daring, and quite -out of the common. He replied timidly: - -"I hope, Mademoiselle, you won't make yourself ill. It always makes me -ill to go without my dinner even." - -"I suppose," said Lucie, "that is when your mama punishes you--isn't -it?" - -Paul blushed more deeply than ever. He wished to appear a man, and here -was Lucie reminding him that he was, after all, only a little boy. -Then Lucie asked him: - -"What do you mean to be when you grow up?" - -"A soldier, Mademoiselle," said Paul, straightening himself up -involuntarily. "I am going to the cavalry school at St. Cyr. I shall -ride a fine horse like the officers here in Bienville. I told papa and -mama my last birthday, and they are quite willing." - -"But it will be a long time yet," said Lucie, "won't it?" - -"Not so very long," said Paul. "In four years I shall go to the cavalry -school, and then in four years more I shall be graduated, and then -I shall be a lieutenant, and have a sword, and wear a helmet with a -horse-hair plume in it." - -The picture which Paul unconsciously drew of himself was very -attractive to the imaginative Lucie. She looked at him meditatively, -and wondered how he would look when he was grown up, with his sword and -horse-hair plume. Paul was not particularly handsome, but his somewhat -stocky figure was well-knit, and he looked unqualifiedly clean and -honest--two great recommendations in any man or boy. - -"By the time you are a lieutenant with a sword," she continued, "I -shall be a young lady with a long train and I shall be very rich. -Harper told me so, and then I am coming to Bienville, and I will buy -the commandant's house, and have the finest carriage in Bienville, and -have a ball every night." - -Paul listened to this with a sudden sinking of the heart. The -realization came to him, as much as if he had been twenty instead of -twelve years old, that this splendid picture which Lucie drew of her -future did not accord with his, the son of a Bienville advocate, who -lived in a modest house and whose mother made most of her own gowns. -And besides that, he did not like, and did not understand Lucie's -innocent bragging. He was a sweet, sensible boy, with a practical -French mind, who never bragged about anything in his life, and who did -heroic, boyish things in the most matter-of-fact manner in the world, -and never thought they were heroic. But Lucie was so charming! Like -many a grown up man his judgment and his heart went different ways. -Lucie had his heart--there was no question about it. - -Lucie would have liked to stay a long time with Paul, and Paul would -have enjoyed staying with Lucie, but, looking up, he saw his father -and mother approaching, on their way to the terrace, where, like all -the other inhabitants of Bienville, they spent their summer afternoons -having ices or drinking tea and listening to the music. The Verneys -were a comfortable-looking couple, fond of each other and adoring Paul. -They smiled when they saw Paul seated on the bench and the charming -little girl talking to him. They knew it was none of Paul's doing, for -he was afraid of girls and always ran away from them. - -As his father and mother drew nearer, Paul's impulse to rush away, in -order to avoid being seen with Lucie, almost overpowered him, but he -was at heart a courageous boy, and a chivalrous one, and he thought it -would be cowardly to run off; so he stood, or rather sat his ground -with apparent boldness, but his face was reddening and his heart -thumping as his father and mother approached. Lucie, however, was not -at all timid, and when she saw Monsieur and Madame Verney coming so -close, asked Paul who they were. - -"It is my father and mother," said Paul in a shaky voice, opening his -book with much embarrassment and turning over its pages. - -"I think they look very nice," said Lucie, "and see, they are smiling -at you. I think they are smiling at you because you are talking to me." - -Paul's head went down still lower on his book, and his face burned -crimson. Lucie, with great self-possession, got up from the bench, and, -making a pretty little bow to Monsieur and Madame Verney, skipped off -back to Harper. - -Monsieur Verney, a pleasant-faced man of fifty, prodded Paul with his -cane. - -"What charming young lady was that, my son, with whom you were -speaking?" - -"Mademoiselle Lucie Bernard," Paul managed to articulate. - -"And a very pretty little thing she is!" said Madame Verney, who was, -herself, pretty and pleasant-looking, sitting down on the bench, and -putting Paul's blushing face upon her shoulder. "For shame, Charles, to -tease the boy so!" - -Paul hid his face on his mother's shoulder, meanwhile screwing up his -courage to its ultimate point. Then, raising his head, and looking his -father directly in the eye, Paul said: - -"When I grow up, I mean to marry Mademoiselle Lucie." - -The boy's clear blue eyes looked directly into his father's, which -were also clear and blue, and between the boy and the man a look of -sympathy, of understanding, passed. His father might laugh at him, but -Paul knew that it was only a joke, after all, and as long as he behaved -himself, no unkind word would be spoken to him by that excellent father. - -"Oho!" said Monsieur Verney to Madame Verney, "so we are promised a -daughter-in-law already!" - -"That pleases me very much," said Madame Verney, smiling. "I hope that -Mademoiselle Lucie will grow up as good as she is pretty, and then I -shall be very glad to have her for a daughter-in-law." - -Then his mother kissed him, and Paul got up and walked on with his -father and mother, holding a hand of each and wondering if any boy ever -had such a kind father and mother. They joked him about Lucie, but -Paul did not mind that. He rather liked it, now that the murder was -out. Presently, when Paul had gone off to play and the Verneys were -sitting at a little table by themselves on the terrace, Monsieur Verney -suddenly fell into a brown study, and, after a few minutes, bringing -his fist down on the table and making the glasses ring, said to Madame -Verney: - -"I know who that little girl is now--I could not place her at first. -She is the half-sister of Madame Ravenel. The child is allowed to visit -her once a year--what can the family be thinking of to permit it?" - -Madame Verney knew Sophie Ravenel's history perfectly well, as did -everybody in Bienville, and she knew more than most people; for she -said to Monsieur Verney: - -"At the time when Madame Delorme left her husband for Ravenel, this -child, whom she had brought up from her birth, was taken away from her -by her grandmother, their father's mother, who is also the grandmother -of Madame Ravenel. This little girl's mother was an American, I am -told. The child, I know, has been permitted to visit Madame Ravenel -before, but this will scarcely be allowed after she is two or three -years older. I have also heard that she has a large fortune through her -mother, in her own right." - -At this the great maternal instinct welled up in Madame Verney's heart. -Why should not her Paul, the best of boys, marry a girl with a large -fortune and a position like Lucie's, which was far above Paul's? She -began to dream about Paul's matrimonial prospects--dreams which had -begun when he was a little pink baby lying in his cradle. The Verneys -were not rich, nor distinguished, nor was there anything except love -which would be likely to provide Paul with a wife suitable to his -merits. Madame Verney, following up this dream concerning Paul, began -secretly to pity Madame Ravenel, and argued that, after all, nothing -about that unfortunate lady could reflect on Lucie. - -Meanwhile Lucie, kneeling down on the edge of the basin of the -fountain, looked into it and saw there a church brilliantly lighted, -with palms and flowers all about, and full of gaily-dressed ladies -and officers in uniform. And then the organ sounded and up the aisle -came marching herself, in a white satin gown and lace veil; and she -leaned on the arm of a young officer with a sword and a helmet with a -horse-hair plume in it, and he had the honest eyes of Paul Verney. - -At the end of the week Lucie vanished from Paul's sight, but not from -his memory. According to all the laws of fitness, Paul, the most -honest, straightforward, matter-of-fact, obedient little fellow in the -world, should have found his counterpart in the shape of another Denise -Duval of his own class; for little Denise was as honest, as correct, -as matter-of-fact and as obedient as Paul Verney. But, behold how it -works! Paul fell in love with the vivacious, sprightly, charming Lucie, -while Toni had determined to link his fate with the irreproachable and -demure Denise. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The summer waned and the autumn began and then a great shock came -to Toni--two great shocks, in fact. First Paul Verney, who, next to -Jacques, was Toni's best friend, was sent away to boarding-school. Toni -felt a horrible sense of loss and emptiness. In losing Paul, he seemed -to lose a protector as well as a friend. He had not been so much afraid -of other people when Paul was about, but now he was more afraid of them -than ever. And then, Toni, being a strong, robust fellow for his age, -it was forced upon Madame Marcel that, as he would not go to school, he -must learn a trade. - -Madame Marcel was ambitious for Toni and shed many tears over his -determination not to make a walking encyclopedia of himself if he -could help it. What was the use of his learning to work, anyhow? When -he married Denise, as he fully intended to do, they could live over -Mademoiselle Duval's shop and eat cakes and tarts for dinner and -candies for breakfast and supper. There was the bench under the acacia -tree close by Mademoiselle Duval's shop, and Toni expected to spend -his adult life sitting on that bench, in the summer time, with Denise -and eating cakes, and in the winter time sitting in his mother's warm -kitchen licking candy kettles. - -It was a very grave matter to select a trade for Toni. Madame Marcel -had aspirations for him which were not shared, however, by anybody -else; for all the persons with whom she talked concerning Toni's future -were quite brutal, so his poor mother thought, and recommended putting -the boy to doing hard work for which his strong little legs and arms -and back well fitted him. But Madame Marcel secretly yearned to see -her Toni a gentleman, though at the same time she had not the courage -to advance this proposition in any way. So she thought as a compromise -between a trade and a profession she would make Toni a musician--a -violinist, in short. - -When this was broached to Toni, he objected to it, as he did to every -suggestion that he should do anything except amuse himself, talk with -Jacques and hang around the horses at the cavalry barracks. His mother, -however, for once showed some determination, and Toni, finding that -he absolutely had to learn to work, begged and prayed that he might be -allowed to work about the one livery stable in the town of Bienville. -Toni really did not think he would mind feeding and currying horses, -he loved them so much--almost as much as Jacques and Paul Verney--and, -like Jacques, they were interested listeners--more interested than -most of the people he knew. Madame Marcel would by no means consent to -this, and urged on Toni the advantage of playing first violin in the -orchestra of the theater, like Hermann, the yellow-haired Swiss, who -was first violinist at the Bienville theater. - -"Do you call that work," asked Toni indignantly, as if he were already -a captain of industry--"sitting there and fiddling for amusement? Why, -mama, that isn't work at all--it's just amusement." - -"Then why do you object to it?" asked Madame Marcel helplessly. - -"Because it is not work," replied Toni boldly. "When I work, I want to -work--currying horses or something." - -"But have you no ambition?" cried poor Madame Marcel. "Do you want to -be a mere hostler?" - -Toni's mind had not projected itself very far. He knew that he would -have to serve his time in the army, and it had occurred to him that -he would certainly be put in the cavalry, and he said as much to his -mother. But Madame Marcel, who could not persuade herself that Toni was -not an innocent and guileless creature, could not endure the thought of -turning him loose in a stable, to bear the kicks and cuffs, the jokes -and jeers, of a lot of rough stablemen. - -She asked Toni if he would be willing to learn the trade of a tailor. -Clery, the tailor, lived opposite them, and was a very respectable man, -who made a good living for his family. But Toni hastily objected to -this--he was afraid of the five Clery boys. - -So Madame Marcel and Toni kept going around in a circle for many days -and weeks. Finally Madame Marcel one morning, taking Toni by his hand, -having washed him clean for once, and dressed him in his best Sunday -suit, carried him off to see Monsieur Hermann, the Swiss, in regard to -converting Toni into a second Sarasate or Ysaye. Hermann lived in two -little rooms at the top of a rickety old tenement, and Toni's heart -sank as he climbed the stairs, holding on tightly to his mother's -hand. He did not like Hermann's looks--a big, blue-eyed Swiss, who -imagined that he resembled Lohengrin and Siegfried, and dressed the -part as well as he was able by cultivating a head of long curly blond -hair and a huge blond beard. - -Madame Marcel explained, as mothers are apt to do under similar -circumstances, that, finding Toni totally unfitted for anything else, -she had determined to make a musician of him. Hermann smiled. There was -nothing of the artistic temperament visible in that tousled head of -black hair, those bright, dark eyes which changed their expression as -quickly as the little river under the stone bridge changed its look on -an April day of sun and rain. And Toni had hard, muscular little hands, -which did not seem to Hermann as if they could ever wield the magic -bow. Toni himself looked sulky. He had no mind to be a fiddler, and did -not mean to learn. However, his mother arranged that he should go the -next day to take his first lesson, and then they went down stairs, Toni -clattering ahead. - -He rushed off to the cavalry barracks at the other end of the town. It -was the time for feeding the hundreds of horses in the long rows of -stalls, and Toni had a few happy moments, crawling in and out as the -troopers would let him, quite regardless of the Sunday suit. Oh, if he -could only live with horses all the time instead of people! Now that -Paul Verney was gone, he felt that it was useless for him to try to -have a talking friend. But horses could understand perfectly well, and -he could find much greater companionship in a horse than in a fiddle. - -He firmly resolved not to go next morning to take his music lesson if -he could possibly help it; but when the time came he could not help it, -and he started off, at a snail's pace, for Hermann's lodging. Hermann, -leaning out of his window, saw Toni come slouching along, looking as -if he were going to his execution. He scowled at Hermann, leaning out -of the window. Few small boys love lessons on the violin, which is -a difficult instrument, but well worth giving one's days and nights -to, thought Hermann. When Toni finally appeared, he was the image of -stolidity and stupidity. Hermann put a violin in his hands, and tried -to explain the scale to him, but Toni was hopelessly inept. He could -not understand those queer-looking things called notes. His mind -wandered to the riding-school, where he knew the troopers were going -through their exercises. He thought of the day he took that glorious -wild ride on the old cavalry charger. He began to wonder what Paul -Verney was doing, and reflected that it would be well for him to frame -an excuse some time that day to go into Mademoiselle Duval's shop, so -she would give him a bun. - -[Illustration: "Told him to go home to his mother and tell her that she -had an ass for a son."] - -It may be imagined to what a pass Toni's state of mind reduced poor -Hermann, who finally rapped him smartly over the head with the violin -bow, and told him to go home to his mother and tell her that she had -an ass for a son. Toni, at the first rap from the bow, which did not -hurt him in the least, howled terrifically, and, rushing off home to -his mother, told her, between his sobs, a harrowing tale of how Hermann -had beaten him most cruelly with the violin bow. However, Madame Marcel -could not find a scratch on him to corroborate Toni's sensational tale, -and flatly refused to believe him. In spite of Toni's protests, he -was sent back to Hermann's lodgings for his music book and the little -violin which Madame Marcel had asked Hermann to provide for the boy. He -returned home, carrying both music book and violin, those instruments -of torture, and seriously considered studying tailoring after all, as -two of the Clery boys were doing. But Clery made his boys work, and -Toni had great hopes that Hermann would never be able to get any work -out of him. - -Little Denise, who was soft-hearted, had seen him coming and going in -his pursuit of an artistic career, and her heart was touched at the -spectacle of Toni's unhappiness. When he came home that second day, -Denise was sitting on the bench under the acacia tree and was knitting -industriously. Denise had all the virtues which Toni lacked. As Toni -approached, his head hanging sullenly down, Denise held out her hand -and in it was a little piece of stale tart. This brightened Toni -up, and, sitting down by Denise, he told her a moving story of the -cruelties he had suffered at Hermann's hands, adding several atrocities -to the original ones. - -"Poor, poor Toni! I feel so sorry for you." - -"You ought to," replied Toni, deeply touched by his own eloquence, and -beginning to cry. "That man will beat me to death some day, I know he -will, and I hope he will, too, because then even my mother will be -sorry she sent me to learn the fiddle. O-o-o-o-h!" - -Mademoiselle Duval interrupted this tender scene by coming out and -calling to Toni: - -"You good-for-nothing little boy, why don't you go home and practise -the violin and mind your mother? Oh, I warrant Madame Marcel will see -trouble with you!" - -Toni concluded that when he married Denise he would see as little as -possible of his aunt-in-law as well as his father-in-law. - -He went back the next day, and many days after. For weeks and months -honest Hermann strove with the boy, but Toni simply would not learn -the violin. However, a strange thing happened--he found he could talk -to Hermann, and was not afraid of him, and Hermann discovered that -this lazy, idle, dirty, bright-eyed, insinuating urchin, who had no -ear for music, had some strangely companionable qualities. Toni even -grew intimate enough with Hermann to tell him all about Jacques, and -actually was courageous enough to show that redoubtable warrior to his -friend. He told Hermann also of his friendships with horses and said to -him: - -"Do you know, I feel as if you were a horse--a great big sorrel -cart-horse." - -Hermann threw back his head, and opened his great mouth and laughed at -this. - -"And I am not the least afraid of you," continued Toni, "and that is -very queer, because I am so afraid of people, except Paul Verney." - -"And shall I tell you," said Hermann, laughing and twisting his hands -in the boy's shock of black hair, "what I think you are like? A -monkey--except that you have not sense enough to learn to dance, as a -monkey does." - -Toni was delighted at this. Then he said quite gravely: - -"Do you know, Monsieur Hermann, of any business a boy can learn that -will give him all he wants to eat, and plenty of time to amuse himself, -and not make him work, and support him?" - -"Oh, yes," said Hermann. "Marry a young lady with a large fortune. That -gives a man enough to do, but yet it is not called work." - -"I had already made up my mind to that," said Toni seriously, "I am -going--now don't tell anybody this--I am going to marry little Denise -Duval, and we are going to live part of the time with Mademoiselle -Duval and eat cakes, and the rest of the time with my mother and eat -candies." - -"Ho-ho!" laughed Hermann, who had a great, big, joyous laugh, "what a -clever arrangement--and Mademoiselle Duval has agreed to this, and her -niece, and your mother?" - -"My mother will agree to anything I say, and Mademoiselle Duval will -agree to anything Denise says, but I have not asked Denise yet--she is -so young, you know, she doesn't understand anything about these things, -but I shall marry her just the same. If I ever have a wife, I mean that -she shall be nice, and clean, and good, and stay at home and work hard. -Women ought to work hard, you know, Monsieur Hermann." - -Hermann shouted out again--his great roaring laugh. - -"You are, after all, not such a little idiot as I supposed," he said. -"Mademoiselle Denise will no doubt work and keep you in idleness. Now -play your scale,"--and then Toni played his scale--a terrible scale, -that began and ended nowhere, and which caused Hermann to grind his -teeth. He caught Toni and shook him. - -"Play that scale again, you little rascal!" he roared, and Toni played -it worse than before. - -"Oh, my God!" cried Hermann, "to think of teaching you the -violin! I might just as well try to teach one of the horses in the -riding-school--I am sure any of the horses could play as well as you -do." - -Toni listened to this, and was pleased. He had no notion of learning to -play the violin, but he had learned to like coming to Hermann's lodging -and talking about all sorts of things, particularly as he had no one -else whom he could talk to. - -Meanwhile, Madame Marcel was delighted when she found that Toni, after -a while, grew to make no objections to going to take his music lesson. -He learned so little, however, that Hermann, who was an honest fellow, -began to have conscientious scruples about taking Madame Marcel's money -for Toni's lessons. - -At the end of six months Hermann went to Madame Marcel and told her -frankly that Toni could never become a Sarasate or an Ysaye, and made -the same comparison about teaching a horse to play the fiddle as easily -as he could teach Toni. Madame Marcel looked at him with wondering -eyes. Toni professed to be so anxious to learn. That young person had -discovered that spending an hour each day doing nothing, with Hermann's -big, kindly face to look into, and being able to tell things to -some one who could understand as Paul Verney did, was really a great -scheme. Then he would always spend another hour going the half-mile to -Hermann's house, and an hour coming back, and he could always invent a -plausible excuse for taking so long; and he had no mind in the world to -give up his once-dreaded music lessons. - -"But he is so fond of his music!" pleaded Madame Marcel. "He loves to -take his lesson." - -"Oh, God!" cried Hermann. "That boy is fooling you, Madame Marcel. He -fooled me for a little while, but he is not learning anything--he does -not mean to learn anything." - -"He likes you so much!" wailed Madame Marcel. - -"And I like him--the idle little rascal!" replied Hermann -good-humoredly. "He is the queerest little chap, and I like to talk to -him. You are paying your good money for that, Madame Marcel--he is not -learning to play the violin--he never will learn." - -Madame Marcel sighed, and a great gloom fell on her. She thought she -had solved the problem of Toni's future, and here it was rising up -before her, even more complex and more appalling than before. - -"Do you think it would do any good," she asked anxiously, "if I were to -whip Toni?" - -"Not a bit, Madame," replied Hermann. "Perhaps if you let me thrash -him--" - -This was the second proposal of the kind which Madame Marcel had -received, the other one being that offer of Sergeant Duval's to -become a father to Toni, and to give him all the thrashings he richly -deserved. Some idea of the same sort flashed into her head, and at the -same moment it came into Hermann's mind. He had grown so unreasonably -fond of the little rascal, and what a pity it was that the boy should -not be made to learn and to behave himself! So he said sentimentally to -Madame Marcel, with almost the same words and exactly the same meaning -which Sergeant Duval had: - -"Madame, you ought to marry in order that Toni may have a man's strong -hand to control him. If I could aspire"--for Hermann was as poor as -poverty, and Madame Marcel, with her candy shop, was comfortably off -for a widow with one child. Madame Marcel shook her head. Sergeant -Duval was far more attractive to her than this big, hulking, blond -violinist, but not even the dashing sergeant could win her on his -promise to give Toni his deserts. - -"No, Monsieur," said Madame Marcel, fingering her apron as girlish -blushes came into her face, "I am not thinking of changing my -condition. My life shall be devoted to Toni, and as I firmly believe -that he has great talent for music, and really tries to learn, if you -will continue to let him go to you, I shall be delighted, and consider -it a favor from you!" - -"Very well, Madame," replied Hermann, in a tone of resignation, "if you -wish to throw your money away, you may pay it to me, for God knows I -need it. But I assure you, I might just as well undertake to teach the -town pump to play the violin as your Toni, and Toni has no more notion -of learning to play than the town pump has. Good morning, Madame." - -Toni, in this affair, scored a brilliant victory over his mother and -Hermann. For two whole years more he kept up this delightful farce of -learning to play the violin, and in that time he learned one little -air--_Sur le Pont d'Avignon_--which he played in a most excruciating -manner, flatting his notes terrifically, and playing with a reckless -disregard of time, which almost broke poor Hermann's heart. When Toni -played this air for the first time before his mother, on a summer -afternoon, the good soul began to doubt, for the first time, whether -Toni could be made a great musician. Sergeant Duval, happening to be at -home on his annual leave, heard these strange sounds proceeding from -Madame Marcel's kitchen behind the shop, and came over in great alarm, -explaining that he heard weird noises and feared that Madame Marcel had -perhaps fallen into a fit. Madame Marcel was highly offended at this -notion of Toni's performance, and directed Toni to play _Sur le Pont -d'Avignon_ for the sergeant, who listened gravely to Toni's scraping -and caterwauling, his only comment on it being: - -"I have known a man to be shot for less than that." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -In the summer Paul Verney came home from boarding-school. He was much -taller and broader than he had been before, much improved in mind, but -the same kind, brave, gentle Paul. He was overjoyed to see Toni again, -and the two lads, on meeting, hugged each other, or rather Toni hugged -Paul; for although Paul was tender-hearted, he was undemonstrative -and felt the dignity of his fourteen years and his two terms at -boarding-school. Not so with Toni, who had no sense of personal dignity -whatever. - -At once their old relations were established and the two lads spent -many hours together, as they had done in summers past, cuddled together -on the abutment of the bridge, and telling each other long stories, -Paul of his experiences at boarding-school, and Toni, stories of what -Jacques had told him, and what Hermann had told him, and what the -horses told him, and what he meant to be when he was a man. He confided -to Paul the charm of learning to play the violin, and shocked Paul's -honest soul by the frank acknowledgment that learning the violin was a -means to avoid going to work. - -But this made no difference in Paul's feelings. He hated dirty, idle -boys in general, but loved the dirty, idle Toni, and, being by nature -correct, methodical, and orderly, he adored the two most unconventional -creatures ever put into this world, little Lucie Bernard and Toni. - -In due time Lucie also came for her annual visit, accompanied by the -wooden-faced Harper, the nursery governess. Lucie sometimes passed -Paul in the street, and always bowed and smiled at him in the most -captivating way, which caused Paul's face to turn scarlet, and sent his -boyish pulses galloping. He confided to his mother's ear that Lucie -had arrived, and for the fortnight that she stayed he haunted the park -every afternoon. He was now promoted to long trousers, and felt his -dignity very much. He longed for an opportunity to talk with Lucie, but -as the case often is, all the arrangements for private interviews had -to be made by the lady. Lucie was an ingenious little person, and not -easily daunted, and it was not many days before she managed to escape -from Harper's eagle eye, and from Madame Ravenel's gentle supervision, -and to come upon Paul, walking soberly along the path, and secretly -wishing for her. - -"How do you do, Monsieur Verney?" said Lucie, dropping him a pretty -little curtsey. "How tall you are!" - -Paul bowed, and managed to say: - -"You, too, have grown, Mademoiselle." - -"Indeed I have," answered Lucie briskly, "and next year my hair is to -be plaited." - -She shook her rich, brown locks that hung down to her waist, and were -tied half-way with a bright scarlet ribbon, and Paul thought in his -heart it was a shame to hide such beautiful hair in a plait, such -as little Denise Duval wore, and the tailor's children; and he much -preferred Lucie's hair hanging free, with the scarlet bow bobbing up -and down. And then, the dancing scarlet bow seemed, in some way, to -match her eyes, which had a gleam of fire in them and which were always -dancing and full of life, and her little, sensitive mouth, which was -always smiling. - -"I hear you have been to boarding-school," said Lucie. - -"Yes, Mademoiselle," answered Paul, quite timidly, as if he were the -young lady, and Lucie the bold and ardent suitor. - -"I suppose you think yourself quite a man." - -"Oh, no, Mademoiselle, I am only a boy yet." - -"I don't go to school--I have masters," said Lucie, "and a visiting -governess who comes to the Château Bernard to teach me geography and -history and things--but let me tell you, Paul,"--here Lucie dropped -into a confidential tone and came quite close to Paul, and put her -rosy lips to his ear, "I don't like to learn anything except English -and music. English is no trouble at all, because Sophie always spoke -English to me, and I love music, although it is very hard work, but -Sophie made me practise on the piano until I can play it quite well, -but for the other things--I don't care whether I know them or not. My -governess goes and complains to grandmama that I won't learn, and then -grandmama sends for me and scolds me, and then I kiss her and tell her -I will do better, and that makes grandmama happy--but I don't care to -learn out of books, Paul--that is the truth--I like to read stories, -but they won't let me read stories, not even Sophie." - -Paul looked at Lucie and sighed heavily. Was she another Toni, -masquerading in girls' clothes? He could not understand, to save his -life, these children who did not like to study and learn, and why -they would not try to please their governesses and parents by trying, -nor could he understand why the two beings destined to be nearest to -his soul should be so different in these respects from his ideals. -Paul could not fathom this, but it troubled him very much indeed, and -forthwith he said a few words to Lucie something like those he had said -to Toni. - -"Oh, Mademoiselle, one ought to learn--indeed one should--particularly -if your grandmother and your sister Sophie wish you to do it. I don't -mind learning in the least--I am going into the army, and if I don't -study and can't pass the army examinations, I shall have to be a clerk -or something of that sort--my parents are not rich, you know--so I must -learn all I can." - -"Tra la la," cried Lucie, stopping in the path, and doing a skirt -dance, fluffing her voluminous little skirts up and down as she had -seen a young lady do at the circus; "you are a boy, and you have to -learn. Who was that black-eyed, dirty little boy I saw walking with -you on the street the other day?" - -"That was Toni," answered Paul, and proceeded to tell who Toni was. - -"And is he fond of learning, too?" asked Lucie. - -"Not a bit," sighed Paul. - -"Then he must be just like me." - -Paul burst into a sudden fit of laughter at the idea of Toni and Lucie -being alike. Lucie seemed to him like a little princess out of a -story-book. - -"I will tell you what, Paul," said she, "when I am eighteen, as I told -you once before, I shall have heaps and heaps of money from America -that I can do with as I please, and nobody can stop me, and I made up -my mind, a long time ago, that I am coming to Bienville to live with -Sophie and Captain Ravenel--oh, I do love them so much--they are so -good to me! Then you will be an officer, and you will have a beautiful -sword, and a helmet with a horse-hair plume in it like the officers I -see walking about here, and then I shall go to a ball, and some one -will bring you up and introduce you to me, and say, 'Mademoiselle, may -I introduce Lieutenant Verney?' and then I shall bow to you as if I -never saw you before, and then you will say, 'Mademoiselle, will you -do me the honor to give me this dance?' and we shall dance together, -and then when nobody can hear, we shall talk about having known each -other always, and it will be our secret, and no one will know it but -ourselves. Won't it be charming?" - -Paul looked at Lucie with a new, strange light in his eyes. Lucie, -although quite unknown to herself, was much further along the path to -womanhood than Paul was to manhood, but she seemed to be showing him -some charming, prophetic vision. - -"And you must not mention to a soul," said Lucie, "that you ever -spoke one word to me before, and I will not tell any one that I ever -spoke one word to you before. I was afraid to tell Sophie that I had -talked with you, because she would be vexed with me, and would not -give me another chance to get away from her. So let us agree never to -mention each other's names to any one, but every summer we shall meet -at Bienville, and then, when we are grown up, we shall be introduced, -but we shall know each other all the time, and then when nobody is -listening, I shall call you Paul and you will call me Lucie." - -More strange, new, delicious feelings crept into the boy's heart as -Lucie said these words. Paul and Lucie! He knew very well that when -grown people called each other by their names they were very intimate, -and how sweet it would be to know Lucie well enough for that; and -besides, if they never called each other by their names except when -they were alone, they would escape being teased. So Paul said, calling -her for the first time by her name: - -"Lucie, you won't forget this, will you?" - -"No, Paul," said Lucie, suddenly dropping her gay and saucy air, and -speaking quite sweetly and demurely. - -And then, having turned a leaf in the book of life, they parted. Lucie -heard Harper's voice calling her, and Paul hurried away, his heart full -of a singular rapture. How enticing the future looked to him! How he -longed to be a man and an officer! And he meant to be a good officer, -too, so that people would praise him to Lucie. He hurried through the -park and past the edge of the town into the fields beyond, and on to -the stone bridge, and, climbing up into the place where he and Toni had -so often huddled together, sat there, lost in a delicious dream. It was -an August afternoon, and the summer air was still and perfumed. In the -purple woods on the other side of the water the birds were chirping -sweetly, and under the bridge the little fishes were tumbling about in -the dark water. - -All these sights and sounds entered into the boy's soul. The bell -had been rung for the curtain to go up for this boy on the great -tragi-comedy of human life. He sat there until the shadows grew long -and the west was flaming, when, looking at the silver watch in his -pocket, he realized that it was almost supper-time, and that he would -have to run home to keep his mother from being uneasy. So he started at -once. - -As he scampered along the street in which Toni lived he saw, standing -under an acacia tree close by Mademoiselle Duval's shop, Toni and -Denise Duval. Denise, as clean, as modest, as pretty as ever, was -generously dividing a bun with Toni, and Toni--oh wonder!--was giving -Denise two whole sticks of candy, only biting off one small piece for -himself. Paul stopped, astounded at the spectacle. Usually it was Toni -who gobbled up everything which Denise gave him, and now, oh, miracle, -Toni was voluntarily giving up something to Denise. It was in truth an -epoch-making day in Toni's life! - -During the rest of Lucie's visit, she and Paul several times spoke -together, and every time it was Paul who said to her: - -"Lucie, don't forget that when we grow up we are to call each other -Paul and Lucie,"--and every time Lucie responded: - -"Don't you forget, Paul." - -Paul, who secretly mourned over Lucie's depravity, talked to her quite -seriously about refusing to learn geography and spelling and arithmetic -and other rudiments of a young lady's education. Lucie listened and, -for the first time in her life, felt herself impelled by a will -stronger than her own. None of the governesses and masters who had ever -taught her had been able to impress her with the necessity of learning, -nor, indeed, did Paul, for that matter, because Lucie by no means -considered that geography and spelling and arithmetic were essential to -a polite education. But Paul had an influence over her, nay, a sort of -authority. - -As Lucie gazed at him, she gradually acquired an expression that a dog -has for a kind master. For the first time in her life she found it -easier to give up her own will than to persist in it. This feeling -was but a gleam, but it was not evanescent. - -[Illustration: "Giving Denise two whole sticks of candy."] - -It was one of the happiest visits Lucie had ever paid in Bienville, for -Sophie seemed a little more like her old self, and Captain Ravenel, -too, was more cheerful. The story of the stand that Colonel Duquesne -had taken about Madame Ravenel had leaked out mysteriously, and there -was no danger of any further impertinence being offered Sophie Ravenel. -The retired and blameless and self-sacrificing life the Ravenels led -was beginning to be known. The ultra-virtuous still hounded Madame -Ravenel over their tea-cups in the winter and their ices in the summer; -but, although no one had invaded the retirement of the Ravenels so far, -a number of people had begun the practice of speaking to them as they -passed, and they were no longer avoided. - -They even reached the point of courage to go sometimes and sit on the -terrace, where the band played, and where the people sat at little -tables, eating and drinking. One afternoon, shortly after Lucie had -left, they were actually invited to sit at the same table with the -Verneys. The Ravenels walked on the terrace, evidently looking for -a table, but there was not a vacant one. There were, however, two -unoccupied seats where Monsieur and Madame Verney and Paul sat, -drinking _eau sucré_. The Ravenels were about to leave, when Madame -Verney whispered something to her husband. Monsieur Verney at first -shook his head, but Madame Verney persisted. That dream of her Paul -marrying the beautiful, charming heiress into which Lucie Bernard was -certain to develop had haunted the good woman's brain, and she urged -her husband, in a whisper, to invite the Ravenels to take the two -vacant seats. Monsieur Verney, like a good, obedient husband, could -not hold out long against his wife; and when the Ravenels passed, not -dreaming that any one in Bienville would share a table with them, -Monsieur Verney rose, and said politely: - -"If you are looking for a place, Monsieur, there are two chairs vacant -here--we shall be most happy if you will occupy them." - -Ravenel stopped, amazed, and the color poured into Sophie Ravenel's -beautiful, pale face, and in an instant more they were seated with -the Verneys, the first social recognition they had had since that day -when Delorme's blow drove Sophie into Ravenel's arms. After thanking -Monsieur and Madame Verney, the Ravenels gave their modest order, and -then, according to the polite manner of the French, they began to talk -together. - -Captain Ravenel at once recognized Paul, and made the boy's heart leap -with delight. - -"And this young gentleman I recollect well, as having been most polite -and attentive to Madame Ravenel once, when she fell ill in the park." - -The Verneys had known nothing of Paul's share in that scene, and did -not identify him at all with that memorable occasion which was known -all over Bienville, when Sophie Ravenel had been so cruelly insulted. -So Monsieur and Madame Verney beamed with delight while Captain Ravenel -gravely thanked Paul. - -The boy gazed at Madame Ravenel's refined and melancholy beauty, and -felt a renewal of the charm which she exercised over all sensitive -natures. Then his heart began to beat furiously as his mother said: - -"I have often admired, Madame, the little girl that I have seen with -you in the park--your sister, I believe." - -"Yes," replied Sophie, "my little half-sister, of whom I had the -charge during all her babyhood, and who is like a child to both of us." - -"She is very, very pretty," said Madame Verney, hoping that embodied -prettiness would one day belong to her Paul, together with all that -went with it. - -"And very good-hearted," replied Sophie, smiling. "She is not a -French child--my stepmother was American, and Lucie is like her, -unconventional and even wilful, but good and tender-hearted beyond any -creature that I have ever known. She lives with our grandmother, and -grandmothers, you know, are not very severe mentors, so I am afraid my -little sister does not get as good discipline as she would have had if -her mother had lived; and when she comes to visit us, Captain Ravenel -spoils her so--" - -Sophie stopped, turning her full, soft gaze on Captain Ravenel. She -thought him the best, the noblest of men, and did not love him the less -because he was so indulgent to Lucie. - -Monsieur Verney, putting his hand on Paul's shoulder, told Captain -Ravenel that there was the future Murat of the French army. Paul's -father was always joking him, but the boy did not mind it in the -least, and laughed at the notion of being a great cavalry officer. - -"So you are going into the cavalry, eh?" asked Captain Ravenel. "Why -not the artillery?" Ravenel himself had been an artillery officer. - -"Because I am not clever enough, I am afraid," replied Paul frankly; -"an officer has to be very clever to be in the artillery--clever at his -books, I mean, and I am not very clever at my books." - -"We do not complain," said Monsieur Verney, in response to this speech, -"he does very well at his books, but he has always wished to be in the -cavalry, so I presume that is where he will land eventually." - -After a little while the Ravenels rose--they were not persons who -outstayed their welcome--and went away with gratitude in their hearts -to the Verneys. This was a little thing, but it was the entering wedge -of something like social recognition in Bienville. The next time they -met on the terrace, it was Monsieur Verney, who, with Madame, asked -permission to sit at the table with the Ravenels. Captain Ravenel, -in the course of the conversation, mentioned some pictures he had of -the Arab tribesmen in Algeria. Monsieur Verney spoke of them to Paul -next day, and the boy begged that he might ask Captain Ravenel to -show him the pictures. Monsieur Verney consented, and that afternoon -Paul, finding the Ravenels taking their accustomed walk, went up, -and, according to his habit, blushing very much, said that his father -had given him permission to ask Captain Ravenel to show him his Arab -pictures. Captain Ravenel promptly appointed the next morning, after -breakfast, and Paul presented himself at half after eleven. He was -the first visitor of their own class who had darkened the door of the -Ravenels since they came to Bienville. - -Captain Ravenel not only showed him the pictures, but talked to him -so interestingly that the boy went home captivated. Moreover, he told -his father that some things, which seemed so hard for him to learn at -school, Captain Ravenel had made quite clear to him, and it came to -Monsieur Verney's mind that it would be a good thing to get Captain -Ravenel to coach Paul an hour or two every day during his holidays. -Madame Verney rapturously approved of this. The vision of Lucie hovered -over it all. The arrangement was soon made, and, during the rest of his -holidays, for two hours every day, Paul sat with Captain Ravenel, in -the garden on pleasant days, but in the salon when it was disagreeable, -and studied mathematics and geography with him. - -Never was there so attentive a boy, and the Verneys were charmed and -delighted at the progress Paul made in his studies. He was naturally of -a determined and plodding nature, and Ravenel was a good instructor, -but there was another motive urging Paul on. Ravenel was Lucie's -brother-in-law, and when that glorious day came, when Lucie would be a -young lady, living in Bienville, and Paul would be a young lieutenant -of cavalry, calling her in public Mademoiselle Bernard, and in secret -Lucie, it would be a very good thing for him to be in favor with -Captain Ravenel, and also with Madame Ravenel. Paul's politeness and -courtesy, the promptness with which his cap came off his reddish hair -when he saw Madame Ravenel, the way in which he flew to open the door -or the gate for her, the gentleness of his behavior, made Sophie his -friend as much as Captain Ravenel. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -In spite of his two hours' work every day with Captain Ravenel, Paul -found plenty of opportunity still to be with Toni. They maintained -their attitude of confidence toward each other as regarded their -different lady-loves, and about this time Toni confessed to Paul that -strange and thorough revolution that had taken place in his nature, by -which he had, for the first time in his life, given to another person -something which he might have gobbled up himself, in giving Denise -nearly all of his two sticks of candy. Paul commended this highly in -Toni, and said to him: - -"Boys should always give girls the preference in things like that. My -father always gives my mother all the chicken livers--that is the way -with gentlemen. But, Toni," added Paul frankly and seriously, "I am -afraid you are not a gentleman, and never will be one." - -"No, indeed," answered Toni, "I am no gentleman--I don't want to be a -gentleman--I am only Toni. But I like Denise almost as much as you do -Mademoiselle Lucie. At first, I meant to marry Denise just because her -aunt keeps a pastry shop, but now"--here Toni expanded his chest, and -looked hard at Paul--"but now, I believe, that is, I almost believe, I -could marry Denise even if her aunt didn't keep a pastry shop. You see, -Denise is so very clean, and I like clean little girls." - -Toni, at that moment, had gathered on his person all the dirt possible, -in spite of the earnest efforts of Madame Marcel in a contrary -direction. His hands were grimy, there was a smudge on his nose, and -his blue overalls, which had been clean that very morning, were all mud -and tatters. A more disreputable-looking boy than Toni did not exist in -Bienville. Paul, realizing the incongruity between Toni's sentiments -and his appearance, burst out laughing, but Toni did not mind being -laughed at, and grinned himself in sympathy. - -"I know I am dirty," he said, "but I don't mind--I am no gentleman." - -Paul's holidays were to end in September, and the Verneys, out of -good-will to Captain Ravenel, and after much serious cogitation, -invited Captain and Madame Ravenel to drink tea with them one -afternoon in their garden. It was a small thing, apparently, this -drinking tea with the advocate and his wife, who were neither rich nor -important people in Bienville, but it meant the rehabilitation of the -Ravenels. In these years of seclusion, both of them had grown timid, -and Sophie rather shrank from appearing once more in that world in -which she had shone so beautifully; but Ravenel, through the point of -view of a man of sense, desired Sophie to go, and his will was law with -her. - -So, on the afternoon before Paul left, the Ravenels went over, and -in the little arbor in the Verneys' garden had tea together. Paul -made one of the party, and also Toni, unseen by anybody except Paul. -There was a hole in the hedge, which was close to the summer-house, -and outside that hole Toni crouched. At one or two points in the -banquet, which consisted of cakes and fruit as well as tea, Paul made -excuses to pass the hedge, and every time he handed through the hole a -cake or some fruit to Toni, and, what was the strangest thing in the -world, Toni ate the cakes himself and put the fruit into a paper bag -which he had brought for the purpose. The third and last time, when -Paul surreptitiously handed a couple of figs through the hole, Toni -held up the bag and whispered, "For Denise." Paul nearly dropped with -astonishment. - -But this was not the only surprise of the afternoon. The summer-house -was near the open iron gate of the garden, and as the grown people were -sitting, quietly chatting and drinking their tea, Colonel Duquesne -passed by, and, stopping in front of the gate, tried to light his -cigar, but used up the last match in his match-box without being able -to do it. Then Monsieur Verney, who was the soul of good-will and -hospitality, taking from the table some of the matches Madame Verney -used for her tea-kettle, walked to the gate and offered them to Colonel -Duquesne. There was a breeze stirring, enough to make it difficult -to light a cigar out of doors, and Monsieur Verney invited Colonel -Duquesne to come into the summer-house. The colonel, looking in and -seeing Madame Verney smiling and bowing, and the Ravenels sitting -there, accepted Monsieur Verney's invitation and went in. Walking up, -he spoke gallantly to Madame Verney, and to Captain and Madame Ravenel, -quite as if he knew nothing about that past which had wrecked their -lives. He did more: when Madame Verney pressed him to accept a cup of -tea, he sat down at the tea-table, and made himself most agreeable, -addressing Captain Ravenel without effusion, but quite as an old -comrade in arms. - -Such a thing neither of the Ravenels had ever hoped or looked for, -and the Verneys, who were the best-hearted people in the world, were -delighted at the success of their invitation. - -Colonel Duquesne sat for half an hour and, at last lighting his cigar, -he departed. As he went down the street, he shook his gray head and -said to himself: - -"If I had a wife or a daughter, what a wigging I should get when I go -home!" - -The next day, Paul was to go back to school, and early in the morning -he and Toni had their last interview in the little cranny on the -bridge. It was a beautiful, bright September morning, but both boys -were rather low in spirits. No boy that ever lived, not even so -excellent a one as Paul Verney, goes back to school with a light heart. -But Paul made the best of it. Toni was depressed at the thought of -being reduced again to the society of Hermann as the only person who -could understand and reply to his talk; for although Jacques and the -horses were equally as intelligent as Hermann, they were not so -responsive. - -[Illustration: "Had their last interview in the little cranny on the -bridge."] - -"And now, Toni," Paul urged, "pray try and learn to play the violin or -do something to make a living." - -Toni shook his head dolefully. - -"I don't like making a living, and besides, if I marry Denise, what's -the use? Denise will take care of me--I know she will. She and my -mother will make a living for me." - -Paul felt perfectly hopeless at this speech of Toni's--there was no -doing anything with him. Paul returned to school and Toni went back to -his music lessons, but with no better success than before. He was now -quite twelve years old, and he had become a public scandal in the town -of Bienville. Even old Marie, who sat by the monument, scolded him for -his idleness. At last, Madame Marcel, actuated by the press of public -opinion, was forced to put Toni to work. As a great favor, Clery, the -tailor, took Toni on trial, with a view to making him a professor of -the sartorial art. Clery's two sons, aged twelve and fourteen, could -already make, each, a respectable pair of trousers, and Madame Marcel, -tearfully laying aside her ambitions, implored Clery to make Toni a -replica of the Clery boys. - -Toni was frightened half to death at the prospect of going into a -tailor's shop, and his mother had literally to drag him there on the -morning when he was to be inducted into his new profession. The shop -was a small room, where two or three sewing-machines were perpetually -going. There sat Clery and his two boys at work. - -For the first week or two, Toni was employed in carrying parcels, which -he found onerous enough. He had a way, however, of taking an hour to -do an errand which ought only to have taken him ten minutes, and when -during that first week in the tailor's shop he was intrusted with a -pair of Captain Ravenel's well-worn trousers which had been pressed and -cleaned, and it took him fifty-seven minutes to carry them from Clery's -shop to the Ravenels' door, which was exactly four minutes away, Clery -said that would never do. - -As for Toni, these long absences from the shop meant getting back to -his old haunts, and to the things he was not afraid of--the bridge by -the river, and the sight of a cavalry troop going out for exercise, or -a conversation with Jacques by way of encouragement. He had a feeling -of terror when he sat in the shop with the tailor's eye fixed on him, -and the two boys, industriously sewing away on the sewing-machine, and -eying him with contempt. He sat there, this wild and reckless Toni, -who was thought to fear neither God, nor man, nor beast, the most -frightened little boy imaginable. He could not have told, to save his -life, what he was afraid of, but he knew that he was afraid--so much -so that he stayed with Clery a whole year. In that time he learned -absolutely nothing except to carry parcels, which he knew before. - -If it had not been for the regard that Clery had for Madame Marcel, he -would not have kept Toni a fortnight. As it was, he found it impossible -to teach Toni the smallest thing about the tailoring trade. He could -not operate a sewing-machine to save his life, nor learn to sew a -stitch or to handle a smoothing-iron. Clery, who knew what a problem it -was, thought long and anxiously over this problem of Madame Marcel's. -All through the winter days, he kept his eye on Toni, hoping that the -boy might learn something; but when the leaves came in the spring, Toni -knew no more about tailoring than he did when the autumn winds swept -the trees bare. - -It was then May, and Toni was finding the confinement of the shop -almost more than his soul could bear. It seemed to him impossible that -such a life should continue, away from the fresh air, away from the -damp, sweet-smelling earth, away from horses and troopers. He could not -even see Denise, for Clery had taught him one thing, and that was not -to loiter by the wayside, and sometimes a whole week would pass without -his having a word with the lady of his love. - -And Denise, with the clairvoyance of childhood, saw, in the troubled -depths of Toni's black eyes, that he was soul-sick, and in her tender -heart she felt sorry for him. Sometimes she would lie in wait for Toni -under the branches of the acacia tree, and hand him out a tart or a -piece of ginger bread, but even this had no taste in Toni's mouth--life -was so dark and drear to him. How he longed for those happy days when -he scraped and talked in Hermann's garret, or those still better days, -when there was no thought of work, and he could spend the whole day, if -he liked, lying on his stomach on the parapet of the bridge and watch -the silvery backs of the fishes as they tumbled about in the rippling -water! It seemed to him as if Denise was the only soul in the world -who understood and pitied him. Even his mother, who he had hoped would -let him live in idleness all his days, had done this strange and cruel -thing of trying to make him work. Paul Verney wished him to work, Clery -made him work, the Clery boys openly despised him for not working. -Only Denise, of everybody in the wide world, knew what Toni himself -knew--that he was never meant to work. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Toni was now thirteen years old, and though short, was very lithe and -well made. He had never been on a horse's back since that glorious -day when the old cavalry charger had run off with him, and he had not -been able to enjoy the society of the horses much, or to lurk around -the riding-school since his apprenticeship to Clery. On a certain May -day which, although Toni did not know it, was a day of fate to him, -he saw the greatest sight of his life--the debarkation of a circus -company, with all its horses and other animals, at the little station -in Bienville. - -Toni had often seen recruits debark when they came to the cavalry -school for instruction. Clumsy, awkward fellows they were--at first -ridiculously uneasy on a horse, and often as much afraid of a horse as -Toni was of people. And he had seen them return, fine, dashing-looking -troopers, after having been licked into shape in the riding-school. He -loved to see the horses led to the train--they were so intelligent, -so orderly, and seemed like real comrades of the troopers. But he had -never seen anything like the trained intelligence of the circus horses -in his life, and on this May day, when he wandered down to the station -and saw horses who obeyed the word of command, like human beings, -in getting off the train and taking up their right places, he was -astounded and delighted. Every boy in Bienville was at the station to -see the circus arrive, but Toni, according to his habit, slunk off by -himself. There were numerous cages of animals, in which the other boys -took a much greater interest than in the horses, but the other animals -were nothing to Toni, to whom the cult of the horse was everything. - -He followed the circus people, at a respectful distance, to the large -open field where they put up the tent, but the chief point of interest -to him was the temporary canvas stables which were erected. He knew -that it was time for him to go back to Clery's, but he could not, to -save his life, have torn himself away from the fascinating sights and -sounds which surrounded him. - -Everywhere was the bustle and well-regulated haste of such companies. -The circus, which was really a small affair, had arrived in the -morning, and the tent was up, and the performance ready to open by two -o'clock. Toni spent the whole of the intervening time watching what -was going on. Clery and the shop quite faded from his memory. He saw -the circus riders come out of the dressing-tent, in their beautiful -costumes of red and gold and pink and silver, a little tarnished, but -glorious in Toni's eyes, and he saw the horses gaily caparisoned and -almost adored them. - -If he had a single franc, he would be able to go into the tent, and see -the performance, but he had not a franc, nor did he know where to get -one, except--except--he knew where his mother kept a tin box full of -francs. He was afraid to go to her and ask her for the franc, because -he had not been near Clery's shop that day, and if his mother once -caught him she might send him back to the shop, and that would mean no -circus for him that day. But it was so easy to open the box and take -out a franc--a thing he had never done before or thought of doing. But, -like Captain Ravenel and Sophie, there are moments in the lives of -human beings when temptation overwhelms the soul. Toni, who was neither -a thief nor a liar, became both, just as Captain Ravenel and Sophie -Delorme had, in one desperate moment, trampled on the social law. - -So Toni to, whom, in spite of his faults, deceit was as foreign even as -it was to Paul Verney, conceived the thought of taking a franc out of -his mother's tin box. He sneaked back home, along by-lanes and garden -walls, and crept in through the little back door which opened into the -kitchen. His mother was in the front shop, and did not see him. As he -stole softly up the narrow stair into the bedroom above, the sun was -shining brightly, and the clock on the mantel pointed to half-past one. -Toni always remembered this as an hour of fate. - -The circus performance was to begin at two, and he barely had time -to find the key which his mother kept under the bureau cover, and to -unlock the press in which she kept her strong box, to find the key to -the strong box hanging up on a nail inside the press, to open it and -there, in a smaller tin box, to find many pieces of silver. Toni took -out a single franc. He might have taken the whole box, but he never -thought of it. It was not money he wanted, but a sight of the circus. -He then closed and replaced the box, made everything as it was before, -and, creeping down stairs, rushed off to the field where the circus -tent was up, his heart beating with a wild excitement which was not -joy--neither was it pain. - -The performance was almost ready to begin when Toni handed in his franc -with a trembling hand. The place was full; everybody in Bienville -seemed to be there, and many persons from the surrounding country, -but Toni managed to slip himself between two stout peasant women with -baskets in their laps, and contrived to see the whole performance -without being seen. He gave himself up, à la Toni, to the enjoyment of -the moment, putting off until four o'clock the hated interview with his -mother and the still worse one that he must have with Clery. - -But the circus to him was a sight well worth a dozen whippings. -The view of the prancing horses, so wonderfully intelligent, the -beautiful young ladies in gauze and spangles, the riders in their -satin suits,--all were a dream to Toni. He did not see any of the -grease spots on the costumes, nor the paint on the faces of the lovely -young ladies; all was a foretaste of Paradise. It came to him in a -moment what his real destiny was--to be a circus rider. At once his -imagination seized upon it. He wondered himself that he had managed -to exist so long without the circus. All that vaulting and jumping and -leaping, that careering around on the backs of brave horses, must be -heavenly--it could not possibly be work. - -[Illustration: "Toni took out a single franc."] - -Toni saw himself, in imagination, one of those glorious beings. -Two things only did not fit into this picture which he drew of his -future--his mother and little Denise. He could not imagine either of -them in the place of those short-skirted, fluffy-haired young ladies, -with pink silk stockings and very stout legs. - -Just before the end a pony was brought out which succeeded in throwing -three clowns so successfully that the audience was in roars of -laughter. The ring-master challenged any one present below a certain -weight to come out in the ring and try to ride this astonishing pony. -Toni, without his own volition, and knowing no more of what he was -doing than a sleep-walker, wriggled out from between the two fat -peasant women and got down in the sanded ring. There was a roaring in -his ears and a blur before his eyes, and he could not have told how it -was that he found himself upon the back of the kicking, plunging pony -careering around that dazzling circle. All Toni knew was that he was -the pony's master. There was no shaking him off. - -Shouts and cheers resounded, each increasing as the pony, still making -desperate efforts to get rid of Toni, sped around the ring. But Toni -held on as firmly and easily as if he had been born and bred in a -riding-school. He had not the slightest sensation of fear, any more -than on that day so long ago when the old cavalry horse had run away -with him. The cheers and cries increased as the pony, realizing that -Toni had the upper hand of him, came down to a steady gallop. - -The ring-master advanced and cracked his whip a little, and Toni fully -expected the pony to start anew the wild antics of the beginning. -Instead of that, the pony came to a dead halt which was expected -to throw Toni to the ground, but did not. He looked up, however, -and caught sight of the ring-master standing close to him. He was a -fierce-looking man with black eyes like Toni's. The sight of those eyes -waked all the cowardice in Toni's nature. He thought he should have -died of fright while that man was looking at him, and then it came -over him that hundreds of eyes were looking at him all the time. He -slipped off the pony's back and like a hunted creature dashed toward -the nearest opening of the tent and fled--fled homeward. He meant to -creep up stairs and crawl under his little bed and stay there until his -mother came up stairs, when he would catch her around the neck and tell -her all about the franc and ask her, yes, actually ask her to give him -a whipping just to restore things to their normal balance. He felt that -he deserved five hundred whippings. - -As he raced homeward, he passed Clery's shop without looking that way. -Suddenly Clery himself darted out and seizing him dragged him through -the shop and into a little back room quite dark. Clery, who was an -honest fellow, meant to do Toni the greatest service of his life, and -said, holding him by the collar: - -"Toni, you are a thief!" - -Toni, in whose mind the paradise of circus land and the paroxysm of -terror were rioting confusedly, looked dreamily at Clery, who looked -back sternly at him. Toni remaining silent, Clery shook him, and hissed -into his ear: - -"You are a thief! You stole the money from your mother to go to the -circus." - -Toni still said nothing, and Clery continued: - -"When you did not come back, I knew that you had gone to the circus. I -went over and spoke to your mother, and she told me she was sure you -had not gone because you had no money. Then I saw you come back here, -and go out again, and run away as fast as you could. I went over and -told your mother that you had been in the house, but she declared that -you had not. My boy Jean says he saw you running toward the house with -both hands open and likewise your mouth, and come out of it holding a -franc between your teeth. So Toni, you are a thief, and your mother, -I am sure, will never love you again, and to keep you from being sent -to prison for life, I mean to give you as good a whipping as I am -able, for fear your mother will not do her duty by you, and when I am -through, I will take you over to her, and when I tell the police--" - -Clery paused. Toni was thoroughly awake and alive then. A thief! -Tell the police! That meant prison to him. This awful vision drove -everything else out of his mind. And then Clery, suddenly brandishing -the cane, brought it down on Toni's shoulders with all the strength -of an able-bodied tailor. Toni uttered a half-shriek, but after that -neither cried out nor wept, but bore stoically the blows that Clery -rained upon him. It seemed as if the day of judgment had come. - -When Clery, honest man, had finished with Toni and was taking him -across the street, Toni looked around him with wild eyes of despair. -That precious refuge under his little bed seemed no longer open to him. -He was a thief--he must go to prison--that was all he knew. And just -then he looked up and there was a policeman walking straight toward -him. That was enough! Toni, wresting himself from Clery's grasp, turned -and ran like one possessed, the specter of a mad fear chasing him, down -toward the bridge. He was afraid to crawl into his usual nook, because -he could be easily seen from there, so he ran across the bridge and hid -himself in a thicket of young chestnut trees on the other side. - -He lay, terror stricken, his heart beating so that he thought it must -almost make a hole in the ground. What was to become of him? His -mother, as Clery had told him, could love him no longer. He dared not -look any one in the face, but felt an outcast, like Cain. He lay there -for hours, through the waning afternoon, until the purple shadows -descended on the white town, on the sparkling river, the long rows of -barracks and the open fields in which the circus tent had been pitched. -It was now taken down and the circus people were preparing to go by the -highway to the next town, ten miles away. - -It was nearly eight o'clock and the young moon was trembling in the -heavens, when the circus cavalcade began to travel along the white and -dusty highroad, passing by Toni's place of concealment. It suddenly -came into his mind that the only thing for him to do was to go with the -circus. As the end of the procession of carts and vans and horsemen and -horsewomen passed, Toni crept out of his hiding-place and came up to a -company of men who were trudging along on foot. He said to one of them, -Nicolas by name, a youngish man with hair and beard as red as Judas': - -"May I walk a little way with you?" - -This little way, in Toni's mind, meant to walk through life with the -circus company. - -Nicolas laughed; runaway boys were the general concomitants of a circus -company. And in a moment more he recognized the boy who had stuck on -the pony's back, and then had run away so quickly. - -"Yes, come along, you young rascal," he said, "and you can carry this -portmanteau if you like,"--and he slung the heavy portmanteau from his -own shoulders to Toni's. - -Toni trudged along, carrying the portmanteau easily, being a strong -boy. He got into a conversation with his new friend and soon expressed -his determination to stay with the circus, if only they would give him -something to eat, for he was very hungry. A woman, walking along with -them, heard this and handed Toni a couple of biscuits, which he eagerly -devoured. They trudged on for two hours, the moon growing larger and -brighter and flooding with a white radiance the hedges, the wide -fields, the woods and the highway along which the cavalcade traveled -slowly. Toni felt an immense sense of relief. The police could not come -so far to get him. He hardened his heart against his mother. He judged, -from what Clery had told him, that his mother would be the first to -denounce him. - -And so began poor Toni's life with the circus, away from his mother, -away from Denise, away from Paul Verney--only Jacques remained. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Seven years afterward, Toni found himself one day at the little town of -Beaupré, in the valley of the Seine, where the circus was performing, -for Toni had remained with it all that time. Beautiful young ladies in -spangles had come and gone, demigods in red satin with white sashes -had done the same. Toni himself was a demigod in red satin and a white -sash, and was the crack rider of the circus. He had a large head-line -of letters a foot high all to himself--Monsieur Louis D'Argens he was -called on the bill-boards, although everybody about the circus called -him Toni. Toni was then twenty years old and at least twenty years -wiser than he had been seven years before. One does not spend seven -years in the circus without learning many things. He learned all the -immense wickednesses as well as the immense virtues which may be found -in the lower half of humanity. - -But, like most demigods, Toni was not happy. Perhaps it was a part of -the general quarrel which every human being has with fate. But Toni's -principal quarrel was that he was haunted with fears of all sorts. -This madcap fellow, this daring bareback rider, this centaur of a man, -to whom nothing in the shape of horseflesh could cause the slightest -tremor, who could ride four horses at once and could do a great many -other things requiring vast physical courage, coolness and resolution, -was, morally, as great a coward as he had been in the old days when he -ran away from all the boys in Bienville except Paul Verney, and ran -away from home rather than face his mother after having taken a single -franc. He was mortally afraid of a number of persons: of Clery, the -tailor in far-off Bienville, for fear he might set the police on him; -of Nicolas, who had the upper hand of him completely, and of a friend -of Nicolas', Pierre by name, who was the most complete scoundrel unhung -except Nicolas himself. Both of these two men Toni could have whipped -with one hand tied behind his back, for he was unusually muscular and, -though somewhat short, a perfect athlete. His two scampish friends, -Nicolas and Pierre, were wretched objects physically, such as men -become who are born and bred in the slums, who have behind them a -half-starved ancestry going back five hundred years, and who are on -intimate terms with the devil. For a circus rider may practise every -one of the seven deadly sins with perfect impunity except one, that of -drunkenness. A circus rider must be sober. - -They had drawn Toni into many a scrape, but here again Toni's strange -cowardice had saved him from taking an actual part in any wrong-doing. -He watched out for Nicolas and Pierre, at their bidding, he knew of -their wrong-doing, where they kept their stolen gains, how they cheated -the manager, how they abused the women. But Toni himself, although the -associate of two such rogues and rascals, and in many ways their blind -tool, had kept himself perfectly free from the commission of any crime -or misdemeanor. His heart remained good--poor Toni! - -He still hankered, mother-sick, for Madame Marcel. Once every year -since he had run away he had written to her as well as he could, -for Toni's literary accomplishments were very meager, a letter all -tear-stained, telling her he was well and trying to behave himself, -and he hoped she did not have rheumatism in her knees and that he was -sorry for having stolen the franc. He even sent her a little money -once a year, which Madame Marcel did not need, but which Toni did, -and in these letters he always sent his love to Denise, but he never -gave his address nor any clue to his employment. He was afraid to give -any address for her to answer his letter, and so did not really know -whether his mother were alive or dead. - -His heart still yearned unceasingly after Paul Verney, the friend of -his boyhood; and none of the young ladies in tights and spangles had -been able to put out of his mind little Denise in her blue-checked -apron, and her plait of yellow hair hanging down her back, and her -downcast eyes and sweet way of speaking his name. He never heard the -church-bells ringing on a Sunday morning that his Bienville Sundays did -not come back to him--his mother washing and dressing him for church; -the sight of Denise, in her short white frock, trotting along solemnly -with her hand in Mademoiselle Duval's; Paul Verney smartly dressed and -hanging on to his father's arm; Madame Ravenel, in her black gown, -standing just inside the church door, with Captain Ravenel, grave and -stern-looking, standing outside--and then the world in which Toni -lived seemed like a dream, and this dream of Bienville the only solid -reality. - -One friend remained to him, the ever-faithful Jacques, now battered -almost beyond the semblance of a soldier. Toni continued his friendship -for horses. Half of his success with them came from the perfect -understanding of a horse's heart and soul which Toni possessed. The -other half came from that strange and total absence of fear where -actual danger was concerned. When the circus tent caught fire in -the midst of a crowded performance, Toni was the calmest and most -self-possessed person there, and careered around the ring doing his -specialty, a wonderful vaulting and tumbling act, while the canvas roof -overhead was blazing and no one but himself saw it. When the bridge -broke through, with the circus train upon it, Toni was the first man to -pull off his clothes and jump into the water, and assisted in saving -half a dozen lives. He was regarded somewhat as a hero and daredevil, -while secretly he knew himself to be the greatest coward on the face -of the earth. Nicolas and Pierre knew this weakness of Toni's from the -beginning and traded on it most successfully. - -[Illustration: "Doing his specialty, a wonderful vaulting and tumbling -act."] - -The company was performing in the fields outside of Beaupré, but -as they were playing a whole week's engagement in the town, some of -them were quartered in the little hamlet close by. Within sight of the -hamlet's church-spire was a beautiful château standing all white and -glistening in the sunlight, surrounded by prim and beautiful gardens -watched over by sylvan deities in marble. On the broad terrace a -fountain plashed, and lower down a beautifully-wooded park stretched -out. Over the stone gateway leading into the park were the words -"Château Bernard." - -The first time Toni saw this was when he was on his way to the midday -performance in the town of Beaupré. He stopped, and the meaning of -that name flashed into his mind in a second. Little Lucie, that -charming little fairy whom Paul Verney loved so much, and of whom he -had confided, blushingly and stumblingly, some things to Toni in those -far-off days at Bienville, seven years before, when he and Paul had sat -cuddled together on the abutment of the bridge,--the sight of the name -"Château Bernard" brought all this back to Toni. - -It was a beautiful, bright spring morning, like those mornings at -Bienville, except that to Toni the sun never shone so brightly anywhere -as it had shone at Bienville. He stopped and gazed long at the -château, his black eyes as soft and sparkling as ever they had been, -although now he was a man grown. But there was an eternal boyishness -about him of which he could no more get rid than he could cease to -be Toni. There had not been a day in all the years since he left -Bienville that he had not thought of Paul Verney, and thinking of Paul -would naturally bring to his mind the beautiful little Lucie who was -like a dream maiden to him--not at all like Denise, who was to him a -substantial though charming creature. He reckoned that Lucie must be -now twenty, and Paul must be a sublieutenant. - -As Toni stood there, his arms crossed, and leaning on the stone wall, -he heard the clatter of horses' hoofs, and down the avenue came three -riders, a young girl and her escort in front and a groom behind. As -they dashed past Toni, he recognized, in the slight, willowy figure -in the close-fitting black habit and coquettish hat, Lucie Bernard, a -young lady now, but the same beautiful, joyous sprite she had been ten -years before in the park at Bienville. The cavalier riding with her -was, like Toni, below middle size, but, unlike Toni, light-haired and -blue-eyed, not handsome, but better than handsome--manly, intelligent, -clear of eye, firm of seat, full of life and energy, and with an -unstained youth. It was--it was--Paul Verney. - -As the two flashed past, followed by the groom, Toni almost cried aloud -in his agony of joy and pain, but he dared not run after them and call -to them. They, of course, knew that he had run away from Bienville -because he was a thief. That theft of a franc was perpetually gnawing -at Toni's heart. The sight of Paul Verney seemed to show him the gulf -between them. Toni stood, leaning on the wall, his head hanging down, -his mind and soul in a tumult, for a long time, until presently the -sound of a clock striking through the open window of the keeper's house -aroused him to the knowledge that it was almost time for the circus to -begin. He ran nearly all the way to Beaupré, for he worked as honestly -at his trade of a circus rider--only it did not seem like work to -Toni--as Paul Verney did at his as a sublieutenant of cavalry. - -But all that day, through the performance, during the intermission, and -at the afternoon performance and in the evening, when Toni went back -to his little lodging in the village, the vision haunted him. Lucie -and Paul looked so young, so happy, so fresh, so innocent! They had not -behind them anything terrifying. Neither one of them had ever stolen -anything, unless it was the other's heart. They had no Nicolas and -Pierre to make them stand watch while thefts were being committed--to -make them lie in order to shield rascally proceedings--always to be -threatening them with exposure. - -Toni was so tormented by these thoughts that he lay on his hard little -bed in his garret lodging, wide-awake, until midnight and then he was -roused from his first light sleep by a pebble thrown at his window. -Toni waked, started up in his bed and shuddered. That was the sign that -Nicolas and Pierre wanted him. They were his masters; he knew it and -they knew it. He got up obediently, however, slipped on his clothes, -and went down the narrow stair noiselessly. Outside were his two -friends. - -"Come along," said Nicolas. - -"Where are you going?" weakly asked Toni. - -"We will tell you when we get there," replied Pierre, with a grin. - -There was no moon, and the night was warm and sultry, although it was -only May. Toni followed his two friends along the highroad. Nicolas and -Pierre spoke to each other in low voices, and Toni easily made out that -they were engaged on a scheme of robbery. At that his soul turned sick -with horror. He had never robbed anybody of a single centime except -that one solitary franc which he had taken from his mother, but he knew -more about robberies than most people. The bare thought of them always -frightened him inexpressibly, but he continued trudging along without -making any protest. - -Presently they came to the stone wall around the park of the Château -Bernard, over which they all scrambled and made straight for the -château. Everything was quiet about it and apparently every one was -asleep, except in one room on the ground floor. There were some -gigantic, luxuriant lilac bushes, now in all their glory of bloom and -perfume, and under these the three crept. Never again could Toni smell -the lilac blooms without being overcome by a sickening recollection. -The window was open, and within the small and luxuriously-furnished -room they could see an old lady, very splendidly dressed, and a man of -middle age. Toni at once recognized her from the description which -Paul and Lucie had given him so many years before. Madame Bernard was -very large, tall and handsome, and sterner in aspect than both old -Marie, who sat by the monument at Bienville, and the monument itself. -She was by far the grandest-looking person Toni had ever seen, and he -did not suspect that she was as great a coward in her way as he was in -his. Courage is a very variable quantity and subject to mysterious ebbs -and tides. - -Some gold and bank-notes were on a table before them, and the old lady -was saying, weeping a little as she spoke: - -"I think you have behaved to me most cruelly, Count Delorme. Whatever -Sophie's faults were, you got, at least, the benefit of her entire -fortune, which you squandered in your five years of marriage. Now you -come here, when my little Lucie is at an age to be damaged by raking up -this old story about Sophie, although you promised me, if I would give -you two thousand francs a year, that you would never show yourself in -this part of the country." - -"I am obliged to show myself," responded Delorme, a thin-lipped, -hawk-eyed man, who looked the villain he was. "What are two thousand -francs a year? My cigars cost me almost as much as that. And as for -Sophie's fortune--well, a woman like that was dear at any price. If I -had not got it, Ravenel would, and I should not think that you would be -particularly proud of him as a grandson-in-law." - -"I am not," responded old Madame Bernard weakly, and then summoning -something of dignity, added, "but I venture to say that he is a better -man than you are, Count Delorme. At least, he has been far more -considerate of the feelings of Sophie's family, and has kept himself -and her in the strictest seclusion, nor have they asked me for a franc. -I think, also, that the Ravenels still have many friends, while I am -not aware of a single one that you have, Count Delorme." - -In answer to this, Delorme coolly picked up the notes and money, and, -without counting either, stuffed them in his pocket. Madame Bernard -made a faint protest. "There is much more there," she cried, "than two -thousand francs. I did not mean to give you all." But Delorme, rising -and taking his hat, walked out of the room, and let himself out of the -house by a small side door. - -Toni knew then what his friends were up to. The three followed Delorme -through the park, Toni lagging behind. Presently, in a dark place -overhung by a clump of cedars, they came upon Delorme, who had every -vice except that of cowardice. He turned on them and said, in a -threatening voice: - -"What do you mean by following me, fellows?" - -For answer, Pierre and Nicolas fell upon him, Nicolas striking him a -violent blow on the head with a short, loaded cudgel. Delorme fell over -without a word, and in a minute his pockets were rifled. Toni stood by, -dazed and unable to move. It was all over in less than two minutes, -and the three were running away as fast as they could. Toni knew that -Delorme was dead, lying in the roadway in the dark, his face turned -upward toward the night sky, himself robbed of the money of which he -had robbed Madame Bernard. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Next morning, by daylight, the whole region was aroused. Count Delorme -had been found dead, robbed and murdered, in the park of the Château -Bernard. The police appeared in swarms. No one had seen him at the -château, and old Madame Bernard had fainted when told of the murdered -man being found in the park, and had taken to her bed very ill, so she -could not be disturbed. Delorme's identity was easily established, and -it was surmised that he was on his way to the château when he had met -his fate. - -Toni listened, with a blanched face, to all the excited talk and -colloquy that went on among the villagers as well as the circus people -about the strange murder. Suspicion at once fell on the circus people, -but Pierre and Nicolas were old hands at the business and knew how to -manage such little affairs. They had promptly proceeded, the first -thing next morning, to try for an advance of money from the manager of -the circus, and being refused, they had tried to borrow money from -several of their fellow employees to disguise the fact that their -pockets were well-lined at that very moment with Delorme's money. Toni -had never thought of this subterfuge, and did not attempt to borrow -a franc. He spent the day in one long spasm of terror, and in the -evening, when the performance was over and he was going back to his -lodging, his two friends joined him. - -"Toni," said Nicolas, with a laughing devil in his eye as he spoke, -"you must be very careful, for suspicion might fall on you for the part -you took in our little escapade. You struck the blow, you know." - -Toni stopped, stared, and threw his arms up above his head in a wild -passion of despair. - -"I did not--I did not--I did not," he cried. - -Then Nicolas, slipping his hand in Toni's pocket, drew out a -twenty-franc gold piece, a coin which Toni had seldom in his life owned. - -"This was what you took out of the man's pocket," said Pierre. It was -too much for Toni. They were walking along the highway toward the -village, in the soft May evening. Toni, quite unsteady on his legs, -sat down by the roadside. He was so stunned and dazed that he -could neither move nor think nor speak. Pierre and Nicolas walked off -laughing, Pierre, meanwhile having put the twenty-franc piece in Toni's -pocket. When Toni felt this, he threw the money after them frantically, -and it fell in the road behind them, but they did not see it. Toni, -without knowing this at the time, thereby accomplished a stroke of -justice to these wretches. - -[Illustration: "'This is what you took out of the man's pocket.'"] - -He sat there a long time after his two friends had left him. Presently -the power of thought returned to him, and he said to himself: - -"Toni, here is another terrible secret for you to carry--heavier than -any yet that you have carried--too heavy for you to carry alone. Toni, -you are a coward. If you were not, you would have got away from Nicolas -and Pierre a long time ago. Now see what they have led you into. Toni, -you must go to Paul Verney and make a clean breast of it, otherwise, -you will live to be guillotined." - -He had no friend to whom he could go for counsel, unless he could find -Paul Verney. He took Jacques out of his pocket, and Jacques looked at -him in a friendly way and agreed with him as he always did, saying: - -"Toni, unless you take some steps you will certainly be guillotined or -sent to prison for life; so make up your mind to find Paul Verney and -tell him all about it." - -Toni took this resolution, but the courage which inspired him to make -it did not inspire him, at once, to carry it into effect. He meant -to do it the first thing next day, but when the next morning came he -put it off until the afternoon, and when the afternoon came he again -delayed. A secret like that is frightful to keep and more frightful to -tell. And then suddenly their week was up at Beaupré. - -After leaving Beaupré, they gave performances in the small towns round -about. Interest in the murder of Delorme had by no means died out, -but rather increased as time passed on and no clue to the murderer -was discovered. Toni had an instinctive feeling that the police were -watching the circus people. He felt that every one of them was under -suspicion, but he had no tangible proof of this. It made him long, -however, to get away from the circus. He knew that he was of an age -when his army service might begin at any moment, as his twentieth -birthday was close at hand. He had, in fact, already been served with -notice. He could have got off, being the only son of a widowed mother, -but it had occurred to him that by serving his time in the army he -might get rid, for a while, of his two friends, Nicolas and Pierre. -A dream came to him that after his service he would get a place as -teacher in a riding-school. Then he would still have horses for his -friends and companions, but there would be nothing of Nicolas and -Pierre in his life. The dream grew brighter the more he dwelt on it. -He would go back to Bienville and ask his mother's pardon, which he -had done in every letter that he had written her, and then she would -forgive him. And he would make her ask for the hand of Denise for his -wife. - -Oh, how happy he could be if only he had not this terrible secret about -Count Delorme to carry, which stayed with him day and night. If he -could get away from the circus, he thought this secret might then be -less terrible to bear. The first step toward this was soon accomplished -by the strong arm of the law, because Toni found himself, one June -morning, drawn in the conscription. He had no thought of getting off, -because he was his mother's only son, and presently he found, to his -immense joy, that he was to be one of the number of recruits who were -to report at the cavalry depot at Beaupré. - -Beaupré was like Bienville in one way, having a small garrison and -being a cavalry depot, but it was new and modern, unlike Bienville. -Although quite as bright, the barracks and stables were all new and -shining with fresh paint. And oh, what joy was Toni's when he recalled -that Paul Verney was stationed there! It seemed to him as if what is -called the good God, who had neglected and forgotten him for seven -whole years, had at last relented and was directing his destiny and -showing him the path to peace. - -It was almost two months after Toni's little adventure in the park -of the Château Bernard that, one morning, Sergeant Duval, the father -of Denise, heaved a heavy sigh as he paced the tan-bark in the -riding-school at Beaupré and mournfully surveyed the group of recruits -who were to take their first lesson in _voltige_ or circus riding. -There were about fifty of them. They all came from Paris, and recruits -from Paris are notoriously hard to break in. They feel a profound -contempt for the "rurals," a term which they apply to everybody outside -of Paris. The sergeant, running his eye over them, had no difficulty -in sorting them out, so to speak, according to their different -degrees of incapacity. About half were clerks, waiters, and artisans' -apprentices, town-bred and certain never to get over their fear and -respect for horses. The other half were porters and laborers and the -like, who could be taught to stick on a horse's back, but would never -acquire any style in riding. - -Among them was a stupid-looking young fellow, rather short but -well-made, with very black eyes and a closely-cropped black poll, whom -Sergeant Duval did not recognize in the least as his old friend Toni, -the unknown aspirant for the hand of Denise. Toni's apparent fear and -dread in the company of the horses had kept the troopers in a roar of -laughter ever since he had joined. His awkwardness in the simple riding -lesson of the day before showed what a hand he would make of it in the -more difficult _voltige_, and his companions had hustled him to the -first place in the line, so they could see the fun. - -Just then Sublieutenant Verney walked into the riding-hall. He was the -same Paul Verney, only he was twenty-two years old, and was known and -loved by every man and by every horse in the regiment. This triumph -was something to be laid at the feet of Lucie Bernard, whom he had -loved ever since that August afternoon in the park at Bienville, when -she had taken his book away from him and his heart went with the book. -Sublieutenant Verney was always present at the riding-drill, whether -it was his turn or not, and he dreamed dreams in which he saw himself -as another Murat or Kellerman, leading vast masses of heavy cavalry to -overwhelm infantry--for he held to the French idea that men on horses -can ride over men on foot. His dog, Powder, a smart little fox terrier, -was at his heels. - -Now Paul Verney was an especial favorite with Sergeant Duval, who had -known him as boy and man, who had seen sublieutenants come and go, and -knew the breed well. He looked gloomily at Paul as he came up and ran -his eye casually over the recruits. - -"Pretty bad lot, eh, Sergeant?" said Paul. - -"Dreadful, sir. It would have broken your heart to have seen them in -the riding-school yesterday. Not one of them has any more notion of -riding than a bale of hay has." - -"Ah! Well, you can lick them into shape, if anybody can," was Paul's -reply to this pessimistic remark. - -The specially-trained horse on which greenhorns learned was then -brought in. He was an intelligent old charger, and when he stood -stock-still, with a trooper holding up his forefoot, his small, bright -eye traveled over the recruits. Then, suddenly dropping his head, he -gave forth a long, low whinny of disgust, which was almost human in its -significance. - -"Old Caporal even laughs at them!" cried the sergeant. "Now, come here, -you bandy-legged son of a sailor, and get on that horse's back, and do -it with a single spring." - -This was addressed to Toni, who lurched forward so clumsily that it was -seen there was little hope for him. - -The waiting greenhorns watched with a sympathetic grin Toni's timid -and awkward preparations to spring on Caporal's back. He moved back -at least ten yards, and, lunging forward with the energy of despair, -succeeded in landing on the horse's crupper, from which he slid to the -ground, and lay groaning as he rubbed his shins. A shout of laughter, -in which every man joined except the sergeant, followed this. Even -Powder gave two short, sharp yaps of amusement. The sergeant, though, -was in no laughing mood. - -"Now, then," he cried, "are you going to keep us here all day? Get up -and try again!--and this time, be sure and land between the horse's -ears." - -Thus adjured, Toni, still rubbing his shins, got up, and going still -farther off, made another clumsy rush. This time, by scrambling with -both hands and feet, he managed to get on Caporal's back, and then, -working forward, he perched himself almost astride the horse's neck, -and said with a foolish smile: - -"I can't get any farther forward, sir." - -"Get off!" roared the sergeant. - -Toni worked backward as he had worked forward, and slid down behind. -Old Caporal, at this, made a disdainful motion with his hind leg, and -Toni, with a scream, bolted off, yelling: "Take care! take care! he's -beginning to kick." - -The recruits had something else to think of now in their own efforts -to vault on Caporal's back. Some of them were awkward enough, but all -did better than Toni. Then came the mounting and dismounting while the -horse was galloping round in a circle, the sergeant standing in the -middle with a long whip to keep him going. - -Toni, meanwhile, had stood with his heart in his mouth, watching Paul -Verney. There was not, on Paul's part, the slightest recognition of his -old friend. Toni's shock of black hair, which was as much a part of him -as his black eyes and Jacques in his pocket, had been closely-cropped, -and he had grown a black mustache, which quite changed the character -of his face, and he looked away from Paul Verney, not wishing for -recognition at that time and place. - -Toni was also the first man to attempt the mounting and dismounting. He -ran around the circle twice before he seemed to screw up enough courage -to try to mount, and could not then until the sergeant's long whip had -tickled his legs sharply. In vain he clutched at the horse's mane, and -made ineffectual struggles. Once he fell under Caporal's feet, and only -by the horse's intelligence escaped being trodden on. - -"If the horse were as great a fool as you are,"--roared the sergeant. - -Crack went the sergeant's whip as Toni got on his legs. Timidity and -stupidity have to be got out of any man who has to serve in a dragoon -regiment, and the sergeant proceeded to take them out of Toni. - -"Look here, my man," he said, "you have got to learn to do that trick -now and here--do you understand?" - -"But, Sergeant," moaned Toni, "I am afraid of the horse, I swear I am--" - -The sergeant's reply to this was to run toward Toni with uplifted -whip. Old Caporal, supposing the whip was meant for him, suddenly -broke into a furious gallop. Toni darted toward him, lighted like a -bird with both feet on the horse's back, folded his arms, stuck his -right leg out as Caporal sped around the circle, changed to his left, -turned a somersault, stood on his head on the horse's back for a whole -minute, and then with a "Houp-la!" flung himself backward to the -ground, and, approaching the sergeant, stood calmly at attention. The -roof of the riding-hall echoed with thunders of laughter and applause, -Sublieutenant Verney leading off, capering in his delight, and pinching -Powder to make him join his yelping to the uproar. The sergeant stood -grinning with satisfaction. He was one of the few sergeants who wanted -a man to ride well and cared very little what share of praise or blame -accrued to himself in the doing of it. - -"So you were in the circus?" he asked. - -"Yes, Sergeant--ever since I was thirteen," answered Toni, who had -thrown off his stupid expression like a mask and stood up alert, -cool, with a glint of a smile in his eye. Then he stopped. He had not -forgotten those magnanimous offers made by the sergeant to his mother -to marry her for the purpose of thrashing him. His old cowardice -returned to him and he trembled at the idea of the coming recognition -by the sergeant. He certainly would not consider a circus rider a match -for Denise, who, by this time, must be a young lady. - -The seven years which had changed Toni and Paul from boys into men, had -apparently passed over the sergeant without leaving the smallest sign -on him, but they had marked Toni so that Sergeant Duval so far had no -idea that he was the Toni whom he had yearned to thrash. - -A light had been breaking upon Paul Verney's mind. There had been -something strangely familiar in the awkward recruit. A thrill of -remembrance swept over Paul Verney, but Bienville and Toni were far -from his mind then, and besides, Toni, as a dirty, shock-headed boy, -had been the personification of boyish grace, while this fellow had -been the embodiment of awkwardness in walking as well as riding. But -now things began to grow clearer. As for Toni, the old joy and love of -Paul came over him with a rush. He straightened himself up, stood at -attention, and turned his gaze full on the young lieutenant. - -Paul came up close to him. - -"Isn't this--isn't this Toni?" he asked. - -For answer, Toni saluted and said, "Yes, sir." He had learned enough, -during his short enlistment, to say that. And then, surreptitiously -opening his hand, Paul caught a glimpse of the old battered Jacques -in Toni's palm. He covered it up quickly again. Paul Verney could not -trust himself with all the recruits standing by, and the riding lesson -in progress, to say more than: - -"Come to my quarters at twelve o'clock,"--and turned away. - -Sergeant Duval then recognized Toni, and with severe disapproval. - -"So you have turned up at last!" he said sternly, "while your poor -mother has been breaking her heart in Bienville these seven years about -you. Well, I will talk with you later. I don't suppose you learned any -good in the circus except how to ride." - -But this could not crush Toni. He had felt all his perplexities and -miseries dwindle since he had spoken to Paul Verney. Paul always -had such a sensible, level head, and knew well that plain, straight -path out of difficulties--telling the truth and standing by the -consequences. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -At Paul Verney's quarters, therefore, on the stroke of twelve, Toni -presented himself. He had laid aside his pretended awkwardness and when -he stood, erect and at attention, in his dragoon uniform, he was a -model of lithe and manly grace. His circus training had developed his -naturally good figure, and he was as well built a young fellow as one -would wish to see. He was handsome, too, in his own odd, picturesque -way. His teeth were as white as ever and shone now in a happy grin, -while his black eyes were full of the mingled archness and softness -that had distinguished the dirty little Toni of ten years before. - -Paul was as happy as Toni, and the two eyed each other with delight -when they were alone. Paul stepped softly to the door and, locking it, -held out his arms to Toni, and the two hugged each other as if they -were ten years old, instead of being twenty and twenty-two. - -"And now, Toni," said Paul, "tell me all that you have been doing. I -don't suppose you learned anything good in the circus except riding." - -"That's just what Sergeant Duval said to me," replied Toni, and then -the memory of all he had suffered since his association with Pierre and -Nicolas came to his mind and his expressive eyes glowed. - -"It is true, Pa--I mean, Lieutenant, that I got into bad company when I -was in the circus, and I want to tell you all about it. But first tell -me something about Bienville. I have written regularly to my mother, -but I was afraid to give her my address." - -"Afraid of what?" asked Paul. - -Toni's eyes wandered around the room aimlessly, and came back to Paul's. - -"I always was afraid," he said. - -"Your mother is alive and well," said Paul, "but heart-broken about -you. What induced you, Toni, to run away as you did?" - -"Because--because--" That one franc still loomed large in Toni's mind. -"I took a franc from my mother--only a single franc, to go to the -circus, and Clery, the tailor, caught me and accused me of taking the -money and whipped me and said he would have me arrested and then--oh, I -was so frightened! I have been frightened every time I thought of that -franc in these more than seven years." - -"Some story of the sort got out," answered Paul, "but your mother -always denied it. I don't really think she missed the franc that you -took out of the box. But Toni, what a fool you were--what a monumental -fool you were." - -Toni shook his head. "And a coward, too, sir," he said. It was very -difficult to add that "sir" when he spoke to Paul, and equally strange -for Paul to hear. - -"Look here, Toni, don't call me 'sir' when we are alone--I can't stand -it. As soon as we step outside in the corridor it shall be 'my man' and -'sir,' but when the door is locked we are Paul and Toni." - -Toni nodded delightedly. "It never would have worked," he said, "when -the door is locked on us." - -"I never could understand that cowardice in you," said Paul. "You were -the most timid boy I ever saw in my life about some things, and the -most insensible to fear about others." - -"I know it, but the reason why you can't understand it is because you -are not afraid of anything. I am not afraid of horses, nor of railroad -wrecks--I have been in one or two and was not frightened--nor fires, -nor--nor any of those things which come on a man unawares and where -he has just to stand still, keep cool and do what he is told to do. -But when it comes to other things, like going against another man's -will--oh, Paul--I am the biggest coward alive and I know it. I would -never volunteer for the forlorn hope, but if there was an officer by -the side of me with a pistol I'd march to the mouth of hell, because -I would be more afraid of the officer than I would be of hell. That's -the sort of courage I have," and Toni grinned shamelessly. "But before -I tell you all of the evil things that have befallen me, tell me some -more about Bienville. How does my mother look?" - -"About twenty-five years older since you left. And Toni, you must write -to her this very day--do you understand me?--to-day, and I shall write -to her that she may get our letters together." - -"I will," answered Toni. "And how about little Denise?" - -As Toni said this, he blushed under his sunburned skin, and Paul -laughed. They were both very young men and their thoughts naturally -turned in the same direction. - -"Denise is here with her father. Mademoiselle Duval has sold out the -bakery shop, so I suppose you will no longer be in love with Denise." - -Toni giggled like a school-girl. - -"To tell you the truth," he said, "I never have thought about any girl -except Denise, but I can only think of her now as a little creature in -a checked apron with her flaxen plait hanging down her back." - -"She is an extremely pretty young lady, and a great belle with the -young corporals. Mademoiselle Duval has given her a nice little dot of -ten thousand francs to her fortune. But, for that reason, the sergeant, -who is a level-headed old fellow, is looking around very carefully -before he disposes of Denise's hand." - -Toni struck his forehead with his open palm. - -"Oh!" he cried, "Denise is not for me. I am only a private soldier--I -never will be anything else." - -"You can be something else if you choose," said Paul Verney. - -"And I have been in the circus. The sergeant will never forgive me -that." - -Paul shook his head dolefully. It was pretty bad, and the sergeant was -a great stickler for correctness of behavior. But Paul, being a lover -himself, and a poor man, who sincerely loved a rich girl, sympathized -with Toni. - -"Oh, well," he said, "we must wait and see. One thing is certain--if -Mademoiselle Denise takes a notion into her head to like you the -sergeant will give in, for he is a very doting father. But, Toni, you -must behave yourself after this." - -"Indeed I will," replied Toni. "When I tell you what I have got by bad -association, you will understand that I mean what I say." - -And then Toni, seating himself at Paul's command, poured out the story -of all that he had suffered at the hands of Nicolas and Pierre, ending -up with that last dreadful account of the murder of Delorme. - -"And that secret, Paul, I am carrying," cried poor Toni, putting his -fists to his eyes, into which the tears started, "and sometimes it's -near to killing me." - -Paul listened closely. He realized, quite as fully as Toni did, the -position in which Toni had got himself, and did not make light of it. - -"At all events," he said, "I don't think any one regretted Delorme's -death. He was the worst sort of a rascal--a gentleman rascal. You know -he was the first husband of Madame Ravenel at Bienville." - -Toni nodded. - -"I have seen many women in the seven years that I have been traveling -about the world," said Toni, "but I never saw one who seemed to radiate -modesty and goodness as Madame Ravenel. Do the Ravenels still live at -Bienville?" - -"Yes." The color came into Paul's face, which was pink already. "They -live there as quietly as ever, but much respected. They are no longer -avoided, but still live very quietly." - -Toni, looking into Paul's eyes, saw his face grow redder and redder, -and his mouth come wide open, as Toni said, with a sidelong glance and -his old-time grin: - -"And Mademoiselle Lucie?" - -"Beautiful as a dream," replied Paul, with a lover's fondness for -superlatives, "and charming beyond words. Only," here his countenance -fell, "she has a great fortune from America, and why should she look at -a sublieutenant in a dragoon regiment with two thousand francs a year -and his pay?" - -"If I recollect Mademoiselle Lucie aright," answered Toni, "and she -takes a notion into her head to like you, her grandmother will give in, -because you used to tell me, in the old days when we sat in the little -cranny on the bridge, that Mademoiselle Lucie said her grandmother -allowed her to do exactly as she pleased." - -Paul laughed at having his own words turned against him. - -"Oh, Toni!" he cried, "we are a couple of poor devils who love above -our stations, both of us." - -"Not you," replied Toni with perfect sincerity. "The greatest lady -that ever lived might be proud and glad to marry you." And as this -was said by a person who had known Paul ever since he could walk, in -an intimacy closer than that of a brother, it meant something. "I -have seen Mademoiselle Lucie," continued Toni. "I saw her one morning -about two months ago, when you and she were riding together. She rides -beautifully--I could not teach her anything in that line." - -"She does a great many things beautifully, and she is the most -generous, warm-hearted creature in the world." - -"And just the sort of a young lady to fall in love with a poor -sublieutenant and throw herself and her money into his arms." - -"But if the poor lieutenant had the feelings of a gentleman he could -not accept such a sacrifice. He would run away to escape it." Paul -grew quite gloomy as he said this, and stroked his blond mustache -thoughtfully. But it is not natural at twenty-two, with youth and -health and a good conscience and abounding spirits, to despair. It was -all very difficult, but Paul did not, on that account, cease loving -Lucie. - -"And does she still go to Bienville every year to visit Madame -Ravenel?" asked Toni. - -"Yes, every year, except two years that she spent in America. She is -just home now, and very--very--American." - -Paul shook his head mournfully as he said this. He had all the prim -French ideas, and the dash of American in Lucie frightened him, brave -as he was. - -"But, on her last visit to Bienville, before she went to America, -her grandmother sent with her a carriage and a retinue of horses and -servants, which quite dazzled Bienville. I think Mademoiselle Lucie -bullies her grandmother shamefully. And whom do you think she pays -most attention to of all the people in Bienville?" - -[Illustration: Lucie.] - -Toni reflected a moment. "Monsieur and Madame Verney?" - -Paul's light blue eyes sparkled. "That's just it. She has my mother -with her all the time, and as for my father, he adores her, and Lucie -actually pinches his arms and pulls his whiskers when she wants to be -impertinent to him. You know she takes advantage of being half American -to do the most unconventional things, and my father quite adores -her--almost as much so as his son." - -"It looks to me," remarked Toni, "as if Mademoiselle Lucie were taking -things in her own hands, and meant to marry you whether you will or -not. I have often heard that heiresses run great risks of being married -for their money and then finding their husbands very unkind. Perhaps -Mademoiselle Lucie knows this and wants to marry a man like yourself, -who loves her for herself." - -"I think Mademoiselle Lucie has too much sense to marry me," answered -poor Paul quite honestly. "I think it is simply her kindness and -generosity that make her kind to me and affectionate to my father -and mother. She will marry some great man--a count or a duke -perhaps--there are still a few left in France--and not throw herself -away on a sublieutenant of dragoons," and Paul sighed deeply. - -The pair spent nearly two hours together. It seemed to Toni as if he -could never be satiated with looking at his old friend, as pink and -white and blond as ever. Paul felt the same toward Toni, and when, in -the old way, Toni took Jacques out of his pocket and showed him, it was -as if seven years passed away into mist and they were boys together. -But at last Paul was obliged to dismiss Toni, who went back to his -quarters with a heart lighter than it had been for seven years. - -And he was to see more of Paul than he had dared to hope, for Paul -had promised to arrange that Toni should be his soldier servant. The -present incumbent was not exactly to Paul's liking and he was only too -glad to replace him with Toni. - -There was work waiting for him, and that, too, under Sergeant Duval's -eye, and Toni did it with the energy of a man who is determined on -pleasing the father of his beloved. No one would have recognized, in -this smart, active, natty trooper, the dirty idle Toni of his boyhood. -Sergeant Duval, however, was a skeptic by nature, and he waited to -see more of Toni before reversing the notion he had formed of that -young man. He had heard something, on his annual visits to Bienville, -of Toni's fondness for Denise, and, when she was in short frocks and -pinafores, had sometimes joked her about it, but Denise, who blushed at -the least little thing, would hide her head on her father's shoulder -and almost weep at the idea that she had even glanced at a boy. - -Toni was longing to ask after Denise, but he dared not. As soon as he -had a moment's time to himself--and a recruit lately joined has not -much leisure--he wrote a long letter to his mother. He did not write -very well, and was a reckless speller, but that letter carried untold -happiness and relief with it to the Widow Marcel at Bienville. His -duties as Paul's servant began at once. Toni was not overindustrious, -but if he had to work for any one he would wish to work for Paul. - -And then came a radiant time with Toni--a time when life seemed to him -all fair. He managed to put that secret horror of Nicolas and Pierre -out of his mind as they were out of his sight. He got his mother's -forgiveness by return of post, and he laid aside all the fear he had -had of Nicolas and Pierre, and enjoyed the sight and the occasional -society of the two beings who, with his mother, were nearest to him of -the world--Paul Verney and Denise. He dared not mention Denise's name -to Sergeant Duval, who preserved the most unfeeling reticence about her -toward Toni. The sergeant had no mind to encourage the attentions of -young recruits, just out of the circus, to his pretty daughter with her -splendid dot of ten thousand francs. - -Toni, however, knew that the time of his service would come to an -end in a year, and then he would be able to carry out that beautiful -scheme that had haunted him during his circus life. He would become -an instructor in a riding-school and earn big wages, as much as two -hundred and fifty francs the month, and meanwhile he would lead so -correct a life that even Sergeant Duval would be forced to approve -of him. All these resolutions were very much increased by the first -sight he caught of Denise. It was about a fortnight after he joined, -and during that time he had kept his eyes open for the lady of his -love. Although Sergeant Duval had quarters at the barracks, Denise and -Mademoiselle Duval lived in lodgings in the town, and Toni did not -have many opportunities of going into the town. One Sunday evening, -however, a beautiful August Sunday, Toni found himself standing in -the public square where the band played merrily and one of those open -air balls, which are so French and so charming, was going on. Ranged -on benches around were the older women, and among them Toni at once -recognized the tall, angular, black figure of Mademoiselle Duval; and -whirling around in the arms of a handsome dragoon with a beautiful pair -of black mustaches, much finer than Toni's, was Denise. Toni's heart -jumped into his mouth, his soul leaped into his eyes. It was Denise, of -the acacia tree, and the buns, of long ago. - -She was as blond, as modest, as neat as ever, but far prettier. Her -fair hair was twisted up on her shapely head, on which sat a coquettish -white hat. She wore a white muslin gown, with the short, full skirt -much beruffled. Denise would have liked a train, but Mademoiselle Duval -frowned sternly on such unbecoming frivolities as trained gowns for a -sergeant's daughter. - -Denise had developed into as much of a coquette as Lucie Bernard had -been, only in a different direction. Lucie achieved her conquests by -a charming boldness, a bewitching unconventionality. Denise Duval -succeeded in attracting the attention of the other sex by a demureness -and quaint propriety which were immensely effective in their way. - -Toni, having some instinctive knowledge of this, determined to proceed -with great caution and military prudence. He would strive to carry -the fortress of Denise's affections by gradual approaches and not by -assault. So, in pursuance of this plan, he walked up to Mademoiselle -Duval and making a low bow said: - -"Mademoiselle Duval, may I recall myself to your memory? I am Toni -Marcel, the son of Madame Marcel, of Bienville, and had the honor of -knowing you when I was a boy." - -Mademoiselle Duval gave him one grim look, and then cried out: - -"Oh, I know you very well, Toni. You were the worst boy in Bienville, -and as dirty as you were bad. Oh, how much trouble did you give your -mother!" - -This was not a very auspicious beginning for a young man who wished -to become the nephew-in-law of the lady he addressed, but Toni was -not deficient in the sort of courage which could take him through an -emergency like that. He only said hypocritically, and with another bow -and a sigh of penitence: - -"Ah, Mademoiselle, every word that you say is true. I know I was very -naughty and very idle, and my mother was far too patient with me. I -gave her a great deal of trouble, but I hope to be a comfort to her -in the future. I had a letter from her only yesterday in which, like -the rest of your sex, Mademoiselle, she showed a beautiful spirit of -forgiveness. I hope that she will come to visit me for a few days -before long." - -Mademoiselle Duval was not greatly softened by this speech, but seeing -Toni disposed to take a scolding meekly, she invited him to sit down -by her side, when she harangued him on all his iniquities for the last -seven years. The sergeant had told her that Toni had been in the circus -and that was enough. Mademoiselle Duval warned Toni that all circus -people were foredoomed to hell-fire, and that he would probably lead -the procession. Toni took the attack on himself very meekly, but said: - -"I assure you Mademoiselle, there were some good people in the -circus--some good women, even." - -"Good women, did you say?" screamed Mademoiselle Duval, "wearing tights -and spangles, and turning somersaults!" - -Toni bethought him of the time when there was an outbreak of scarlet -fever in the circus company and how these same painted ladies in -tights and spangles stood by one another and nursed each other and -each other's children day and night, and uttered no word of complaint -or reproach. He knew more than Mademoiselle Duval on the subject of -the goodness and the wickedness which dwell in the hearts of men. He -told Mademoiselle Duval, however, the story of the outbreak of scarlet -fever. He had a natural eloquence which stood him in good stead, and -Mademoiselle Duval, who was one of the best women in the world and had -a soft heart, although a sharp tongue, was almost brought to tears by -Toni's story. - -Just then Denise's cavalier brought her back to her aunt, and Toni, -jumping up, profoundly saluted Denise. His soul rushed into his eyes, -those handsome, daredevil black eyes which the prim and proper Denise -had secretly admired from her babyhood. She glanced back at him as she -courtesied to him with great propriety, and something in her face -made Toni's pulses bound with joy. There was a softness, almost a -tenderness, in her look which Toni, having some knowledge of the world, -interpreted to his own advantage. Denise's own heart was palpitating, -not tumultuously like Toni's, but with a gentle quickness which was new -to her. - -[Illustration: "There was a softness, almost a tenderness, in her -look."] - -"Ah, Mademoiselle," said Toni, calling Denise Mademoiselle for the -first time, "how well I remember you in my happy days at Bienville, -when you used to give me buns under the acacia tree." - -He stopped. A soft blush came into Denise's fair cheeks. She smiled and -looked at him and then away from him. Denise remembered the bench under -the acacia tree and all that had happened there well enough. Denise -knew then, and knew now, that when the Toni of those days gave up -something to eat to a small girl, his feelings were very deeply engaged -to her. She recollected in particular the first afternoon the Ravenels -took tea with the Verneys that Toni had selected one beautiful, ripe -plum, and after eying it longingly, had put his arm around her neck and -put the plum in her mouth, and what he had said then. Her blushing now -revealed it all to Toni. - -Suddenly the band struck up a waltz, Toni politely asked Denise to -favor him with her hand for the dance, and they went off together. The -moon smiled softly at them, and even the electric lights had a kind of -tenderness in their glare, when Toni, clasping Denise in his arms for -the first time, began to whirl around with her to the rhythm of the -music. He felt himself raised above the earth--all his fears, all his -evil-doing had departed from him--he felt, poor Toni, as if he would -never be afraid of Nicolas and Pierre again, and as if that waltz was a -foretaste of Heaven for him. - -And Denise, too, was happy. He saw it in her shy eyes, in the softness -of her smile, and presently Toni drew her closer to him and whispered: - -"Denise, Denise, do you remember?" and Denise whispered back, "Yes, -Toni, I remember all." - -And so as it was with Paul Verney and Lucie Bernard, they called each -other by their first names when they were alone. - -Presently in the mazes of the dance Toni looked up and there was Paul -Verney passing through the square. He caught Toni's eye and Toni -grinned back at him rapturously. When the music stopped, Toni, putting -Denise's hand within his arm, escorted her back to the bench where -Mademoiselle Duval sat knitting in the electric light. He contrived to -pass directly in front of Paul Verney, whom he saluted respectfully, -and Paul bowed low to Denise and said to her: - -"Mademoiselle, we are both natives of Bienville, and I am most happy -to see you here with your worthy aunt and your respected father," and -then Paul, with an eye single to Toni's interests, walked on the other -side of Denise up to where Mademoiselle Duval sat and promptly claimed -acquaintance with her. In the old days at Bienville there had not been -such a tremendous difference between Paul Verney, the poor advocate's -son, and the children of the pastry shop and the confectioner. Now -Paul was an officer, but he was very pleasant and gentlemanlike, -however, though quite dignified, and gave himself no haughty airs. He -inquired with the deepest solicitude after Mademoiselle Duval's health, -remembered gratefully sundry tarts and cakes she had given him in the -old days, and then said to her, in the most unblushing manner: - -"And, Mademoiselle, we have here another citizen of Bienville, -Marcel"--it was the first time that Paul had ever called Toni, Marcel, -in his life--"who, I assure you, is worthy of our old town. He is -strictly attentive to his duties, and the best rider in my troop. I -predict that he will be a corporal before his enlistment is out." - -And thus having advanced Toni's cause with his prospective aunt-in-law, -Paul Verney withdrew, winking surreptitiously at Toni as he went off. -It was impossible that Mademoiselle Duval should not revise her opinion -of Toni after this testimony from his officer, so Toni at once found -himself in a most acceptable position with Mademoiselle Duval. He -danced twice more with Denise, carrying her off in the face of a couple -of corporals, and, by his devoted attentions and insidious flattery of -Mademoiselle Duval, gained that lady's good-will. He would have liked -to escort his old friends back to their lodging, but, as he explained, -he barely had time to reach the barracks before the tap of the drum, -and he scurried off, the happiest trooper in Beaupré that night. - -When he neared the quadrangle on which the barracks faced, he overtook -Paul Verney, and as he rushed past he whispered in his ear: - -"Thank you, thank you, dear Paul." - -In that moment he could have not refrained, to save his life, from -calling his lieutenant Paul. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -It was a bond of sympathy between Paul and Toni that each should, as -it were, love above his station. Paul was a frequent visitor at the -Château Bernard, and was regarded by the stately and imposing Madame -Bernard with very mixed feelings. The old lady looked on Lucie very -much as a hen does which has hatched out a duckling among her brood. -Madame Bernard was a representative of the strictness of manners, such -as had prevailed in France fifty years before. - -Although dragon-like in her manner, Madame Bernard was at heart a -grandmother, and that tells the tale. Lucie was her idol, and the two -years the young girl had spent with her mother's family in America had -been one long nightmare to Madame Bernard. When she returned she was -the same Lucie, with an added dash of Americanism which frightened -Madame Bernard almost out of her wits. Nevertheless there was something -about this wild young creature, this half American, something which -gave Madame Bernard instinctive confidence that she could never commit -the fearful error of Sophie Ravenel. - -Madame Bernard was now more than seventy years of age, and quite -unequal to opposing Lucie's will, and Lucie, at twenty years of age, -reigned over the Château Bernard in a manner that terrified and -enchanted all under her sway. She had, somewhere in her beautiful head, -a nugget of American common sense--a thing which none of those around -her quite understood, only they saw that Mademoiselle Lucie never -came to grief in any of her pranks and schemes. She was, of course, -surrounded by admirers. Madame Bernard had been considering offers -of marriage for her ever since her eighteenth year, and had nearly -arranged one or two for her of the most advantageous description, -but what should this madcap Lucie do but laugh at every one of these -desirable lovers, declaring that she did not mean to marry until she -was quite ready, and might not marry at all. This latter grotesque idea -mortified Madame Bernard, who had already promised no less than six -ambitious mamas that in a year or two she was sure that Lucie would -come to her senses. Then Lucie was given to joking, a practice which -Madame Bernard had never heard of any girl indulging, and actually made -fun of the excellent _partis_ which Madame Bernard offered for her -consideration, drew caricatures of them, wrote nonsense verses about -them, and otherwise amused herself at their expense. - -Madame Bernard observed that the sandy-haired young sublieutenant, -Paul Verney, cool, calm, and matter-of-fact, seemed to have a singular -influence, and that for good, over Lucie. - -Their meeting had come about in the most natural way possible. On -Lucie's return from America she had gone to Bienville to pay Madame -Ravenel that longed for visit. Her coming upset the whole town, and was -of itself a cyclone. With the rash generosity of youth Lucie, who now -understood Sophie's sad history, took on herself the task of placing -the Ravenels upon the footing which she thought they deserved. This -meant bringing, as she had promised to do in her childish days long -ago, a retinue of horses and carriages and servants with her, likewise -of dazzling gowns and ravishing hats, and making her visit one long -fête. The Ravenels, wiser than little Lucie, tried to curb her, but as -well try to curb a wandering zephyr as Lucie Bernard, with a noble and -generous impulse in her heart. The people of Bienville were a kindly -set on whom the self-respecting seclusion of the Ravenels had not been -without its impress. When ambitious mamas and impressionable young -officers found that the only way to make any terms with this child of -brilliant destiny was to accept those she loved at the value she placed -on them, it was not so difficult to accomplish. The Ravenels, in that -fortnight of Lucie's visit, got more invitations than they had received -in all the years they had lived in Bienville. - -Among the first was to drink tea in the Verneys' garden--a modest -form of entertainment suited to the advocate's means. It happened -to be Madame Verney's fête-day, a day which Paul always spent with -his mother, if possible. Madame Verney had not only written, but -telegraphed, for Paul to get leave if he possibly could. It was a long -distance to travel to spend twenty-four hours with his mother, and -Paul's two thousand francs' allowance, besides his pay, had a habit -of walking off mysteriously, just like the allowances of other young -officers, but one line at the end of Madame Verney's letter settled the -matter for Sublieutenant Paul Verney. The line ran thus--"Mademoiselle -Lucie Bernard will be staying with the Ravenels--her first visit since -her return from America--and the Ravenels are coming to tea with us on -my fête-day." Paul went that moment and asked boldly for a week's leave. - -He got to Bienville at noon on the great day, and at five o'clock, when -the little festivity was inaugurated in the garden and the Ravenels -entered, there was Paul, still pink and white and sandy-haired, -not spoiled with beauty, but adorned with manliness. With the new -affectation of the young French officers he adopted the modern fashion -of discarding his uniform on every possible occasion and wearing -citizens' clothes whenever he could, but on this day he could not -but remember what Lucie had said, a long time ago, about his wearing -a uniform next time they should meet. So he put on his handsome new -undress uniform and looked a soldier. His mother admired him immensely, -so did his father, and so, in fact, did Lucie, when that young lady, -in a dazzling white costume and charming white hat and white shoes, -came tripping along the garden path. Paul blushed from his head to his -heels as he made her a beautiful bow, but Lucie, who had acquired the -startling American fashion of shaking hands with any and everybody, -deliberately slipped her little hand in his and gave him a look from -under her long eyelashes which said as plainly as words--"Welcome, -Paul." And by Madame Verney's tea-table in the little garden their -hearts were cemented without one word being spoken between them. - -After that Paul was with Lucie every moment he could contrive while -he was in Bienville, cursing himself meanwhile for being a villain -in forcing his company on that radiant creature with her millions of -francs. He had, however, the best excuse in the world--he could not -help it. And when he found that he would shortly be sent to Beaupré, -in the immediate neighborhood of the Château Bernard, he was the -happiest and likewise the most miserable creature alive. Lucie was -unblushingly happy and demanded that as soon as he arrived at Beaupré -he should present himself at the château and pay his respects to Madame -Bernard. Of course, he did it, wicked as he knew it to be, with the -result that he was the only man whom Lucie really encouraged. And in a -little while, as natures quickly adjust themselves to each other, Paul -acquired a species of control over Lucie, a thing which no one but -Sophie Ravenel had ever done before. - -She generally wished to do what was right, but on the occasions -when she wished to do what was wrong, Madame Bernard saw that the -sandy-haired young sublieutenant could turn Lucie from her way. -In particular, he could dissuade her from doing many rash things, -sometimes innocent, sometimes dangerous. She was an accomplished, -though reckless rider and when she would have ridden a horse which, -rightly named Comet, had run away once, and might be depended on to do -so again, Paul Verney had managed to do more with her by a few words -than all of Madame Bernard's prayers and the exhortations of the head -groom. - -Paul often came over to the Château Bernard and, on one special -afternoon he found Comet saddled and waiting, and when he went into -the drawing-room, Madame Bernard implored him to try to persuade Lucie -not to ride Comet. Presently Lucie tripped in, looking charming in her -riding-habit, and with the light of contradiction in her eyes. Paul, -she knew, objected to her riding the horse, and she was prepared to -defy him. - -"I think, Mademoiselle," said Paul quietly, "it would scarcely be -judicious for you to ride Comet." - -Lucie, who was proud of her horsemanship, resented this promptly, and -replied: - -"But I wish to ride Comet. I am perfectly capable of managing him, and -besides, he is not really vicious." - -"The last may be true, Mademoiselle, but I think you are mistaken in -the former. You have no more real control over Comet than a butterfly -has." - -For answer, Lucie tapped her whip smartly on the mantelpiece, and said: - -"Thank you very much, Monsieur Verney--I must beg you to excuse -me--good afternoon," and was going out of the room when Paul, who had -walked over from his quarters, asked of Madame Bernard: - -"Madame, may I have one of your horses saddled, and follow Mademoiselle -Lucie on her dangerous ride?" - -"Indeed, you may," replied poor Madame Bernard, wringing her hands, -"take anything you may find in the stables." - -Lucie burst out laughing. "And do you mean to ride in that dress?" she -asked of Paul, who had on a frock coat and held a silk hat in his hand. - -"It isn't the dress that I would choose to ride in, Mademoiselle," -answered Paul, laughing. "I dare say I shall look quite ridiculous in -this costume scampering after you--everybody we meet will surmise the -reason--nevertheless, I shall go." - -"But you will not," cried Lucie, running out of doors to where the -horses were standing. She was not equal to the impertinence of having -her groom assist her on horseback with an officer and a gentleman -standing by, and, furthermore, the groom understood the situation -and kept discreetly in the background. Paul further astounded her by -directing the groom to ride to the stables and have a horse saddled for -him and brought at once. Lucie was so angry that she had to wink her -dark, bright eyes to keep the tears from coming, but Paul was as cool -and as calm as possible. - -"Never mind, Monsieur," said Lucie, in a trembling voice, "I shall ride -Comet--of that you may be sure. You may force yourself on me to-day, -but you can not do it every day, and I shall ride what horse I please." - -Paul, urged by his love and tenderness for her, said words for which he -thought he would have died rather than have spoken: - -"Dear Lucie, if you are as reckless as that you will break my heart. -Forgive me for calling you by your name, but don't you remember, seven -years ago, in the park at Bienville, you told me that when we were -grown up we should call each other Paul and Lucie in private?" - -Paul stopped. He felt as if he were guilty of a crime in saying these -words to that enchanting creature, who would marry so far above him in -every way. All at once he saw a vision of his father's modest house at -Bienville, and thought of his own small allowance and slender pay, and -reckoned himself the greatest fool in existence. But Lucie's reply to -this was to look at him with a mysterious smile on her expressive face, -and to say softly: - -"This is the first time that you have ever called me by name, Paul--" - -They were standing on the lawn, in full view of dozens of eyes, while -this was passing. Paul looked at her in dumb admiration and despair, -but there was nothing in the least despairing in the smile which -presently rippled over Lucie's face, with her eyes all fire and dew. -The fact is that Mademoiselle Lucie had been very much in love with -Sublieutenant Paul Verney, ever since they had been children together -in the park at Bienville, and wished him to know it, and she was in -love with the best part of him--his courage, his modesty, his good -sense, his clean and upright life, and having the American archness -in her nature, she saw the humorous side of it and could not forbear -laughing at poor Paul. - -"But I think," she said, "a gentleman should keep his word. You -promised me that you would call me by my first name in private, and you -have only done it once, and now you speak as if you would never do it -again." - -Paul secretly thought Lucie, just as he had always done, a very -improper little person, but quite irresistible. - -"At all events," said Lucie airily, flicking the blossoms of a tall, -blue hydrangea nodding gravely in the sun, "I intend to call you -Paul, in private that is--and I don't think I shall go to ride this -afternoon." - -"And promise me," said Paul, coming a little closer and looking at her -earnestly, "that you won't ride Comet any more--Lucie." - -"I promise then, Paul," replied Lucie, with an affectation of a -meekness which was far removed from her, and which she only used for -purposes of her own. Then the horses were sent away, and the two walked -together across the lawn and into the drawing-room where Madame Bernard -sat in an agony. - -"I shall not ride this afternoon, Grandmama," said Lucie. "Monsieur -Paul would insist on going with me, and he would look so utterly -ridiculous on horseback dressed as he is that I was ashamed to be seen -with him; so, instead, he will stay and have tea with us, and meanwhile -we shall go and play billiards." - -This charmed Madame Bernard, who concluded that the next time Lucie -was refractory she would send post-haste for Sublieutenant Verney to -manage her. It is not to be supposed that Madame Bernard did not see -the possibilities of the future as well as Madame Verney had done long -years before, when Paul and Lucie had played together as children. But -Madame Bernard, like many other women who know much of the world, was -beginning dimly to reach a just estimate of things. After having seen -many marriages and a considerable number of divorces she had realized -that it was the man, and not the title or the estate, with which a -woman must reckon. And Paul was so very attentive to Madame Bernard, -picking up her ball of worsted when she was knitting, and giving her -his advice, when asked, regarding the colors of her embroidery, that -she had begun to wish Paul Verney had at least a family tree if not a -title. Money she was not so particular about, as Lucie had plenty of -that. But he was only a sublieutenant and his father was an advocate -in a small way in a provincial town. Madame Bernard groaned when she -thought of these last things. - -When billiards was proposed, the old lady made no objection whatever, -but followed the two young people into the large, cool billiard room -with its parquet floor and ground glass ceiling, and embroidered -industriously while the two played a merry game and Lucie beat Paul -two points to one. She could beat him at billiards, at tennis, and at -cards; she sang and played much better than he, and rode quite as well; -and she delighted in showing her skill over him; but, having a great -deal of sense in her pretty head, she realized that in all considerable -things Paul stood near the top. He took his defeats so pleasantly, for -he was the most modest fellow alive, that Lucie often declared there -was no pleasure in beating him. - -This particular afternoon Lucie beat him most shamefully, but Paul had -his reward in the enjoyment of her exquisite grace in playing the most -graceful game in the world. Madame Bernard, apparently absorbed in her -embroidery, was watching every tone and motion and saw that they were -playing another game far more interesting and with much greater stakes -than any game of billiards. And, as she had a presentiment that Lucie -would have her own way in the matter of a husband, Madame Bernard, -with calm resignation, was quite reconciled to Paul, and was glad in -the present instance it was no worse. They played through the whole -afternoon, and Madame Bernard asked Paul to stay to dinner, but this -he was obliged to decline, much to his vexation. A sublieutenant of -dragoons is not master of his own time, so Paul went away reluctantly, -and was followed by the vision of a charming figure, showing the most -beautiful hand and arm in the world, and dealing the most deadly shots -to her antagonist. - -When dinner was over, Lucie came and sat by Madame Bernard in her own -small drawing-room as the old lady stitched at her embroidery under -the evening lamp. - -[Illustration: "Saw that they were playing another game far more -interesting."] - -"Grandmama," she said quietly, after a long pause, "what do you think -of Paul Verney?" - -"A most estimable young man," replied Madame Bernard. - -"His family are not at all rich or distinguished," said Lucie, "but -they are very dear. I wish you could see his father, so kind, so -pleasant, so gallant toward Madame Verney, and like an older brother -to Paul. And Madame Verney is sweet--I love to see them together, Paul -and his father and mother. And then they are so kind to poor Sophie and -Captain Ravenel." - -Whenever Sophie Ravenel's name was mentioned, it was like a knife to -Madame Bernard's proud, weak, sensitive heart. It was not only that -Sophie's conduct had been sinful, but, what was worse, it was such bad -form. Lucie meditated a while, and then added: - -"And Paul is a poor man even for a sublieutenant, and he will not have -an easy time of it. He has no family influence or powerful friends to -push him forward, and he will only get on by his own merits. But that -always tells in the long run. When Paul is forty, all his superiors -will know what a fine man and what a fine officer he is. He will be -given things for the asking, that other men strive and struggle for. -And he is not at all handsome, though he looks well in uniform, and on -horseback." - -Then a silence fell in the drawing-room. There was not a sound, except -the ticking of the gilt clock. Lucie was sitting by the table, her -elbows upon it, her rounded chin in her hands. - -"My dear," said Madame Bernard, "why do you call Monsieur Verney by his -first name?" - -"Because," said Lucie, quite calmly, taking Madame Bernard's embroidery -out of her hands, and looking her full in the face, "because I love -him." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -Those pleasant days of late summer and early autumn were a halcyon time -to Paul and Lucie, and to Toni and Denise. Toni was troubled with no -qualms, whatever, with regard to Denise's superiority to him, and the -fact that she might justly aspire to something far beyond a private -soldier. He was the Toni of old, and, like the great Napoleon, he -reckoned that if he wanted a thing, it was his already; and, instead of -shrinking from the idea of Denise's impressive fortune of ten thousand -francs, he was glad she had so much, and wished that it was more--not -that he meant to squander it or that he loved Denise for it. He would -have loved her just as well without a franc. Nor did he love her any -better for having it, but he did not consider that the ten thousand -francs placed any barrier between Denise and himself. And then from -the first moment their eyes had met on the night of the ball in the -public square, that old, sweet feeling of being cared for and protected -by Denise had stolen into his heart. Toni wanted a wife to protect -him from other people and from himself--that was the long and short of -it. As for Denise, her nature had shaped itself to the idea of looking -after Toni and she wanted to give him all the buns and good things in -life. With Paul and Lucie this was exactly reversed. Lucie felt the -most charming sense of protection in Paul's strong arm and strong sense. - -Toni courted Denise assiduously, and did the same by Mademoiselle Duval -and the sergeant, and succeeded, in the course of time, in winning a -grudging respect from the sergeant. That stern warrior knew too much -about Toni's boyhood to accept him at his own value, but his perfect -knowledge of the _voltige_ was an irresistible recommendation to the -sergeant, and moreover, there was no denying that Toni was a good -soldier, attentive to his duty. He had not once been punished since -he had joined; and this was a remarkable record even for the best of -soldiers. Then Toni stood well with his sublieutenant. This counted for -something with the sergeant; nevertheless, he remembered how, in the -old days at Bienville, Toni's black shock and Paul Verney's blond head -were often close together, and these youthful friendships have a -strong hold on many men. Still, Paul Verney was not the man to overlook -the sins of a conscript, and the sergeant was forced to admit that no -fault could be found with Toni so far. - -[Illustration: Denise.] - -He had begun by suspecting Toni's intentions toward Denise, but his -suspicions had been completely lulled to sleep, chiefly by Denise -herself. This young person, who rarely raised her eyes from the ground -and might have posed for a statue of Simplicity, knew perfectly well -how to throw dust in the sergeant's eyes. Concerning Toni, she never -allowed him to be mentioned without some disparaging remark, such -as, "That ridiculous Toni," or "That absurd creature." She called -attention to the fact, which everybody knew, that Toni's nose was a -snub. She also observed, what nobody else had, that Toni slouched when -he walked and was very ugly. Toni, in truth, was the most graceful -fellow in the regiment, and handsome in his black-eyed, black-browed -way. Denise would scarcely admit that Toni knew how to ride, but even -this did not put the sergeant on his guard. She openly complained that -Toni did not know how to dance and waltzed all over her feet when he -danced with her in the evenings in the public square. When in her -father's presence, and Toni was there, Denise treated him like a dog. -He was the only person living to whom she had ever shown any active -hostility, but the mild, the gentle Denise would take him up on the -smallest provocation, yawned at his jokes, laughed when he told of his -discomforts and contradicted most of his assertions. - -Mademoiselle Duval, who had become a great friend of Toni's, lectured -Denise on this, and even the sergeant told her that he thought she was -rather hard on poor Toni. At this Denise shrugged her shoulders. - -"He's such a bore," she said. "I always recollect him as a dirty, -greedy little boy at Bienville. I believe he is just the same." - -Now, Toni certainly showed neither of those traits at present, but -Denise would not allow a word to be said in his favor. Toni, however, -strange to say, did not appear to be discomposed by this conduct of -Denise's, but joined the Duval party two or three times a week when -they sat, on the pleasant evenings, in the public square listening to -the music; and invariably asked Denise to dance with him. He even had -the assurance, when it grew cool in the autumn evenings, to come to -their lodgings, and it was here that Denise's neglect of him inspired -the sergeant to remonstrate with her. - -Toni had the superlative impudence even to bring an occasional bag -of roasted chestnuts or some little cakes to Denise, for Toni was a -connoisseur in cakes, but she invariably declared that they were very -bad of their kind. This same Denise, when she and Toni danced together, -would whisper in his ear, "Be sure and ask me to dance at least twice -more," or, tripping along the street, would meet him and, lifting her -pretty eyes to him, would say, "Toni, when are you coming to see us -again?"--but such is the nature of woman. - -Early in September Madame Marcel arranged to come to pay Toni a visit, -as Toni could not go to see her, and Toni engaged a lodging for her in -the same house where Mademoiselle Duval and Denise lodged. - -"What do you think, aunt?" cried Denise, on learning this from the -landlady, "that impudent Toni has dared to engage a room for his mother -on the same floor with us." - -The sergeant happened to be present. He had grateful recollections of -Madame Marcel, the neatness of her shop and the thriving trade she -had, as well as that lady's personal charms. - -"Denise," said he, "you gibe at Toni entirely too much, and as for his -mother, a most estimable woman is Madame Marcel, and an old friend and -neighbor, and I desire that you treat her with politeness." - -"Certainly I shall, papa," replied Denise, "but as for that odious -Toni, you know I can't stand him." - -"You will have to stand him," replied the sergeant tartly. "He is a -good soldier and seems to have reformed completely, and you must show -him some respect while his mother is here at least. Do you understand -me, Denise?" - -Denise understood him perfectly, only the sergeant did not in the least -understand Denise. - -It was on an early autumn afternoon that Toni met his mother in the -third-class waiting-room at the station. When he took her in his arms -he felt himself a little boy again. Madame Marcel was not much changed, -except that her hair, of a satin blackness like Toni's when he had last -seen her, was now amply streaked with gray. - -"Mama, Mama!" cried Toni, kissing her, while the big tears ran down -his cheeks, "your hair is gray and it is I who have done it." - -"No, no, Toni," cried Madame Marcel, who was kissing him all over his -face, and, who, like most mothers, was unwilling to admit that the -prodigal had been at fault, "your mother is growing old, my son; that -is it." - -She was still handsome, though, and very well dressed in her black -bonnet and silk mantle, and looked quite the lady. Toni felt proud -of her as he escorted her through the street, carrying her bags and -parcels on his arm; and Madame Marcel felt proud of her handsome -young soldier with his trim uniform, for Toni, under the guidance and -recommendation of his corporal, had developed into a model of soldierly -smartness in dress. Toni showed his mother up stairs into the neat room -he had engaged for her, and Madame Marcel stowed away the provisions -she had brought for herself and Toni, being a thoughtful soul. Then -Toni sat in his mother's lap, as he had done when he was a little boy, -and told her everything that had happened to him, except about Nicolas -and Pierre. He was trying to oust those two villains from his mind and -to shut the door on that terrible secret that he shared with them. He -told his mother about Denise and Mademoiselle Duval; and Madame Marcel, -knowing Denise to be the most correct of young girls, with ten thousand -francs as her fortune, rejoiced that Toni had fallen in love with her, -for it was clearly impossible that Denise, or any other girl, could -resist her Toni, now that he was clean and was doing his duty. - -After a while, a tap came at the door, and when Toni opened it, there -stood the sergeant, got up as if he were on dress parade under the eye -of the general himself, his mustaches beautifully waxed, not only waxed -but flagrantly dyed a shining black. He greeted Madame Marcel with -effusion, and then said: - -"I came to request that Madame Marcel will have supper with us -to-night. She has not yet made her arrangements, perhaps, and my sister -and my daughter will be most pleased. I am sorry, Toni, that I can not -ask you, but you are due at the barracks." - -[Illustration: "The sergeant, got up as if he were on dress parade."] - -It struck Toni that this was a scheme for getting him out of the way. -He saw something in the sergeant's eye which indicated a very deep -interest in Madame Marcel, and then recollection came surging over -Toni of the proposition which the sergeant had made some few years -before, to marry Madame Marcel for the purpose of thrashing the little -boy who hid trembling under the counter. Toni was too big to thrash -now, but the sergeant always appeared to him to be about nine feet -high. Toni did not approve of the match in the concrete, but in the -abstract, as the sergeant's advances to Madame Marcel might result to -the advantage of Toni and Denise, Toni determined to encourage him. -He felt sure that his mother, like most mothers, was more in love -with him than with any other man, and would hardly dare jilt him for -the finest sergeant in the French army. So Toni, on his way to the -barracks, turned over things in his mind, and determined to forward the -sergeant's suit up to a certain point. - -Things turned out very much as Toni had anticipated. The sergeant -had reached that time of life when he began to look forward to his -retirement. He had saved up something and, by his sister's thrift and -generosity, Denise was provided for, but the idea of Madame Marcel's -large, warm, cheerful kitchen in winter, and shady garden in summer -would be extremely attractive to a retired sergeant on half-pay. And -Madame Marcel was extremely comely, there was no doubt about that, and -not given to scolding like Mademoiselle Duval. - -As for Madame Marcel, she saw through the sergeant in forty-eight -hours, and what she did not see Toni enlightened her upon. - -"Mama," said he, some days after, when the two were in the privacy of -Madame Marcel's room, "I think Sergeant Duval wants to marry you." - -For answer, Madame Marcel blushed up to her eyes and replied: - -"For shame, Toni. I have no idea of marrying again." - -"I didn't say you had," replied the wily Toni. "I said the sergeant -wants to marry you, or, rather, I think he wants to marry the shop. -But he doesn't want to marry me--I am too big to thrash. But, Mama," -he continued, coming up to her and putting his arm around her waist, -a species of love-making which mothers adore, "you mustn't throw -the sergeant down too hard; at least, not for the present; because -I--I"--here Toni blushed more than his mother and grinned bashfully, -"because I want to marry Denise. I never told you this before." - -"There was no need to, Toni," replied his mother, laughing, "I have -seen it ever since you were ten years old, and I think Denise wants to -marry you." - -At this Toni's black eyes danced. - -"I think so, too," he said, with his own inimitable naïvete. "For all -she is so bashful she has told me so a great many times, with her eyes, -that is." - -"And it would be an excellent match for you, Toni," replied his mother. -"Denise is so orderly, so neat, and such a good manager, and after you -have served your term and come back to Bienville, I will take you and -Denise with me into the shop." - -"I can do better than that," cried Toni. "I can be instructor in a -riding-school and get three hundred francs the month, and then you can -sell the shop and come and live with Denise and me." - -Madame Marcel was too sensible a woman to accept this arrangement -beforehand, but replied prudently: - -"Very well, if you can make three hundred francs the month, you and -Denise can go and live in Paris and I will visit you twice a year, it -would hardly be safe for me to give up the shop." - -"But we should be afraid to leave you there," said Toni roguishly, -chucking his mother under the chin, "with the sergeant just across the -way, for he will be retired just as my time is up. You and he might -elope some fine day, and then come and fall down on your knees and -humbly beg my pardon." - -"I certainly shall if I elope," replied Madame Marcel, smiling. - -"The sergeant is hard hit," continued Toni. "Let me see, you had supper -with them the evening you came--that was Thursday. Then, the next -morning the sergeant sent you in a melon for your breakfast, and in the -afternoon, when you were sitting in the public square, he joined you. I -saw him sitting on the bench beside you, but he sneaked off as soon as -he saw me coming--that was Friday. Then Friday evening he put Denise up -to asking you to take a walk, and you fell in with him, so Denise tells -me, and he walked home with you. And to-day--" - -Just then, a tap came at the door, and the sergeant, with his -beautifully waxed and dyed mustaches appeared. He carried in his hand a -large nosegay, and without seeing Toni, bowed low to Madame Marcel and -said: - -"Madame, will you honor me by accepting this little offering?" - -Madame Marcel advanced, smiling, and accepted the nosegay shyly. Toni, -meanwhile, had slipped behind a screen which concealed the stove. - -"How very charming you are looking to-day, Madame. No one would dream -that you had a son as old as Toni. You should represent him as your -younger brother," said the sergeant gallantly and quite unaware of Toni -behind the screen. - -For all Madame Marcel declared she never meant to marry again, -nevertheless, she was a woman, and the sergeant's compliments tickled -her agreeably, so she smiled coyly at this and declared she looked a -hundred. - -"Nonsense," cried the sergeant, "you don't look more than twenty-five. -And, by the way, Madame, my sister and my daughter are making up a -party for to-morrow--I am off duty for the whole afternoon--and we -should be very much pleased if you would join us in a little excursion -by the tramway to a very pleasant place about two miles from here, -in the country. There is an inn with a garden, and we can take our -luncheon with us and order the wine from the inn. We shall start at -five o'clock, and we shall hope to have the pleasure of your charming -company." - -That was too much for Toni. He suddenly emerged from behind the screen -and said, grasping the sergeant's hand with effusion: - -"Thank you, thank you, Sergeant, so much. We will accept with pleasure. -I think I can get off, too, by applying to Lieutenant Verney." - -The sergeant scowled at Toni. Here was a pretty kettle of fish. He had -no notion of having him with their party, but there was now no help for -it. The prospect was charming for Toni. The sergeant, he felt sure, -would devote himself to Madame Marcel, and then Toni and Denise would -be left to themselves--only, what was to become of Mademoiselle Duval? -Toni knew the Golden Lion well, also its garden, and orchard, and it -was full of little sequestered places where he might have a quiet word -with Denise except for Mademoiselle Duval. But Toni was a strategist of -no mean order, and if he once got Denise in the garden of the Golden -Lion he thought he could see her for a few minutes alone. So the party -was made up for the next day if the weather should permit. Toni, too, -could get off after parade, which was at four o'clock, and everything -seemed most auspicious, except concerning Mademoiselle Duval. - -As Toni walked his beat that night, for he was doing sentry duty, he -began to turn over in his mind various plans by which he could get rid -of his prospective aunt-in-law, and suddenly a brilliant idea came -to him. He knew Mademoiselle Duval was mortally afraid of snakes. -It is true it was hardly the season for snakes, being the middle of -September, but this would make no difference to Mademoiselle Duval, who -shuddered even in January at the thought of a snake. Toni, therefore, -laid his plans, and the next morning he contrived to get off for an -hour and went to Mademoiselle Duval's lodgings. - -Denise was out, and Mademoiselle Duval was reading the weekly religious -newspaper, which was her sole literary recreation. - -"Mademoiselle," said Toni, in a low voice, so that his mother, on the -same floor, might not hear him, "this afternoon, I believe, we are all -to go for an excursion to the Golden Lion and have tea in the garden. I -want to ask you, as a favor, not to mention to my mother that the place -is full of snakes of all sorts. I have been there often, and I have -never gone in my life that I did not see a snake, and sometimes half a -dozen, in that garden. They are not at all dangerous, but if my mother -saw one it would alarm her so much, and I don't wish her to know that -there are any to be seen." - -"Aw--aw--aw!" Mademoiselle Duval shrieked. "You may take your mother if -you like, Toni, but nothing on earth would induce me to go." - -Toni could have hugged her on the spot, but he began to urge her. - -"Pray, Mademoiselle, don't think of remaining behind. The snakes are -perfectly harmless, I assure you. Most of them are the little green -garter snakes that are as harmless as the garter you wear around your -leg." - -This speech caused Mademoiselle Duval to blush, and she said sternly: - -"Toni, your language and allusion are most improper. At all events, I -am resolved not to go to the Golden Lion this afternoon." - -"It will annoy the sergeant very much if you don't go, and if he knows -that it is on account of a few little garter snakes he will laugh at -you for the rest of your life, particularly as it is now September and -they are not very active." - -"My brother may laugh at me as much as he likes," replied Mademoiselle -Duval, privately resolving not to give the sergeant the chance. "I -simply shall not go. Perhaps I may make some excuse to keep my brother -and Denise from urging me, but I shall not go--of that you may be -sure--and I think you are a most undutiful son to take your mother to -any such place. As for my brother and Denise, they go about as if there -were no such things as snakes in the world." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -Toni returned to the barracks confident of victory, and was not at all -surprised when, at five o'clock, he met his mother and the sergeant -and Denise at the tram station, to find that Mademoiselle Duval had a -raging headache and was compelled to remain at home. The sergeant, too, -rather liked the arrangement, except that he was afraid that Denise -would not be sufficiently polite to Toni. So, on their way to the -rendezvous he had warned her. - -"Now, Denise," he said, "I won't have you running away from Toni and -treating him like a dog before his mother this afternoon. You have got -to be civil to him." - -"Yes, papa," answered Denise, with the air of a martyr, "I suppose I -shall have to be civil to him before his mother, but Toni really bores -me dreadfully." Oh! Denise, what a story-teller you are! - -When they got on the tram it was so crowded that it was impossible for -the party to get seats together, so Denise, making a pretty grimace on -the sly at her father, went and sat with Toni quite at the end of the -car, and out of sight of her father and Toni's mother, and her first -speech, whispered softly in his ear, was: - -"Oh, Toni, how nice it is to be together like this." - -Toni answered not one word, but he looked at Denise with his whole soul -shining out of his lustrous black eyes, and Denise thought him the -finest young soldier in the world. - -It was a warm September afternoon, and their road lay through the -beautiful valley of the Seine. There were many family parties on the -tram, and when they reached the Golden Lion the large garden and even -the orchard beyond were full of tables at which people were eating -and drinking. There were plenty of soldiers about, and some of Toni's -comrades would have been very much pleased at an introduction to the -sergeant's pretty daughter, but the sergeant would not oblige them, -neither would Toni. The party seated themselves at a table under an -acacia tree, which reminded Toni and Denise of that other acacia tree -at Bienville under which they had sat and munched and loved in their -childhood. Madame Marcel unpacked their lunch basket and they ordered -wine and tea from the inn and proceeded to enjoy themselves. Under -the combined influence of wine and woman the sergeant grew positively -lover-like, and, when their tea was over and they got up to walk about -the garden, he very soon managed to have Madame Marcel to himself. He -was quite unconscious of being assisted in his manoeuvers by Toni and -Denise and Madame herself, who had a very good mind to give Toni all -possible chances with Denise and her ten thousand francs. So presently -Toni found himself alone with Denise in a little nook in the orchard, -behind a great clump of dwarf plum trees. The soft light of evening was -about them, the air was hushed and the stillness was only broken by -the faint and distant sounds of merriment. All the world seemed fair -and beautiful and peaceful, and the fairest thing of all to Toni was -the blue heaven of Denise's eyes. She wore a pretty blue gown, and a -jaunty black hat upon her blond hair. Her eyes, which were as blue as -her gown, were usually downcast, but were now upturned to Toni quite -frankly. She had loved Toni as long as he had loved her--indeed, the -world without Toni had seemed to her quite an impossible place. He said -softly to her: - -"Denise, in all those seven years that I did not see you did you ever -think of me?" - -"Yes," replied Denise. She said this with a simple sincerity that went -to Toni's heart. - -"You know every time I wrote to my mother I always put the most -important line at the bottom--my love to D. She knew what I meant." - -"Yes," said Denise, with a little gasp of pleasure, "she always gave me -your message." - -"I always felt that sometime or other we should be Denise and Toni as -we had been when you were a dear little girl and I was a dirty bad -little boy. And Denise, I swear to you, whatever I have done wrong in -my life, I have been true to you. I never told any other girl that I -loved her, because I never loved any other girl. I took my fling with -them, but in every girl I ever saw in my life it seemed to me that I -saw something of you, Denise. You need not think that women in the -circus are bad just because they are in the circus. There are plenty -of them that are just as good in their way as--as Mademoiselle Duval -is in hers. They don't take a religious newspaper, but they stand by -each other in their troubles. They help with each other's children and -when a woman's husband gives her a black eye all the other women fly -at him and help to abuse him. Oh, Denise, I think women are very good, -and the worst of them is too good for the best of men. Denise, I am not -half good enough for you, but I want you to marry me as soon as my time -is up. I can get off with one year's service if I escape punishments, -and that I have done and mean to do, for your sake, Denise." He took -Denise's hand in his--their eyes met and then their lips. A bird in the -plum tree above began cooing softly to its mate. The bird seemed, like -Toni and Denise, to think the earth was Heaven. - -Their love-making was very simple, as were their natures and their -lives; they were only a private soldier and a sergeant's daughter, but -they loved each other well and asked nothing better of life than love. - -Meanwhile things had not been progressing so favorably with Sergeant -Duval and Madame Marcel. The sergeant had been a little too vigorous in -his wooing and Madame Marcel, who simply had Toni's advantage in view, -felt called on to repress her lover. The sergeant, who had a big voice -in his big frame, had made his wishes concerning his future with Madame -Marcel quite audible to all the people surrounding them. Everybody had -heard him say: - -"Now, Madame, you should think of changing your condition, really. The -cares of your shop are too many for you--a great deal too many." - -"I have managed them for the past twenty years," replied Madame Marcel, -who thought herself better qualified to keep a candy shop than the -sergeant was, and who understood perfectly what the sergeant was -driving at. - -"True," said the sergeant, floundering a little, "but a woman should -not stand alone--she is not able to do it--that's the truth. She is -being taken advantage of at every turn." - -"And sometimes," calmly responded Madame Marcel, "the advantage is -on her side. I have managed, during my twenty years of widowhood to -accumulate a competence. Toni will not be badly off when I die, and -when he marries I mean to make him an allowance equal to the income -from his wife's dowry." - -This seemed sinful waste to the sergeant, who thought Toni did not -deserve such generosity. That superfluity of which Madame Marcel spoke -he considered had much better be expended on a worthy veteran who -had served his country for more than thirty years, and who would like -extremely to end his days in affluence. But it was plain that Madame -Marcel had the best of him in the argument that a woman could not take -care of herself, so the sergeant changed his tactics. - -"But it would be so much more comfortable for you, Madame, to have a -protector--a husband I mean. Toni will get married and go off, and that -will be the end of him." The sergeant snapped his fingers. "But a kind -and affectionate husband, a man of steady habits--" - -"Most men of bad habits are very steady in those habits," replied -Madame Marcel. She was not a satirist and her remark was the more -telling because of her sincerity. - -"You are right, Madame, but I mean a man of good habits, a man who -doesn't spend most of his time at the wine shops, who has some domestic -virtues. I believe, Madame, that the non-commissioned officers in the -French army are the finest body of men in the world for domestic life. -I never knew a sergeant, or a corporal either for that matter, who was -not a good husband." - -"Then I couldn't go amiss if I should take any one of them," answered -Madame Marcel demurely. "There is a very nice man, a corporal lately -retired, who has bought out the cigar shop near me at Bienville. Gossip -has linked our names together, but I had not thought of marrying him." - -"By no means should you marry him," cried the sergeant, realizing that -he had been too general in his commendations. "He is probably after -your shop and after that nice little competence, which, I judge from -your words, you have accumulated. No, Madame, you could aspire to a -sergeant--it would be sinful to throw yourself away on a corporal." - -Madame Marcel smiled mysteriously, but a good many of the listeners -smiled quite openly, particularly a party of soldiers near them. One of -them behind Madame Marcel's back undertook to enact the part of Madame -Marcel while his comrade, mimicking every action of the sergeant's, -managed to convulse all who observed him as he followed this love -scene. The sergeant folded his arms, twirled his dyed mustaches, and -reflected. He had not made a single breach in the defense as yet. He -had heard that women were easily made jealous, so he concluded to try -it as a _ruse de guerre_. - -"For my part," he said, "I have concluded at the end of my present term -of enlistment to marry and settle down. I may say to you, Madame, in -strict confidence, that I have considered the charms of Mademoiselle -Dumont, the dressmaker, whose establishment is a short way from yours, -Madame, at Bienville. She is a most estimable woman, of a suitable age, -and has given me some marks of encouragement--in fact, I believe it -was generally thought among our acquaintances, at the time of my last -visit to Bienville, that I should have proposed to Mademoiselle Dumont -before I left. My attentions, I admit, had been somewhat compromising. -I had sent her a large basket of figs, and, one day, when I went -fishing, I also sent her my whole catch, besides having taken her and -her sister on an excursion into the country, and having entertained -them handsomely. I thought, when I saw Mademoiselle Dumont for the -last time, that she seemed a little piqued, and I have reason to know -that she reckons herself rather ill-treated by me; but it is by no -means unlikely that on my return next summer I shall offer my hand to -Mademoiselle Dumont." - -"Perhaps you have not heard," remarked Madame Marcel sweetly, "that -Mademoiselle Dumont was married about two months ago to Hermann, the -Swiss violinist, who taught Toni to play the violin." - -This was a facer for the sergeant, but he carried it off better than -could be expected. - -"So she married Hermann, the fiddler?--a Swiss fiddler! Then she was -more chagrined than I supposed. I suspected she would do something -rash if I went away without proposing. Poor, poor creature! As for -Hermann's teaching your Toni to play the violin, why Madame, Toni could -no more play the fiddle than he can command the regiment. Very well! -Mademoiselle Dumont would have been no match for a sergeant. I am glad -now that I did not propose to her, as she certainly expected me to do. -She is much better matched with a Swiss fiddler than with a sergeant -who has seen service for more than thirty years." - -The sergeant eyed Madame Marcel closely. Was it possible that this -demure and correct person, in her neat black bonnet and graceful -mantle, was poking fun at him?--Sergeant Duval, of the dragoons! But -Madame Marcel looked so innocent that it was impossible to fathom her; -and just then Toni and Denise appeared on the scene. The instant -Madame Marcel's maternal eye fell upon Toni, she knew that something -had happened, and that that something was good. And presently it was -time to go home, and they all journeyed back to Beaupré. They walked to -their lodgings together through the soft purple twilight of September. -Toni went with his mother to her room, and, taking her in his arms, -poured out his heart to her. His mother kissed him and shed a few tears -as mothers will do under those circumstances. And then Toni had to run -for the barracks as hard as he could. - -About nine o'clock, when he was through with his stable work and was -standing in the barrack square, he saw Paul Verney passing by. Toni -stood at attention, with such a look on his face that Paul Verney -stopped and spoke to him. - -"What do you want, _mon enfant_?" he said, after that pleasant form of -address with which the officers speak to their soldiers. - -"To see you, sir, in private, for a little while," answered Toni under -his breath. - -"Very well, then, come to my quarters at half-past nine." - -[Illustration: "Was it possible that this demure and correct person ... -was poking fun at him?"] - -So at half-past nine Toni presented himself at Paul's quarters. It -never seemed to them to be at all strange that Paul should be sitting -at his ease, smoking, in the chair before his writing-desk, while Toni -stood stiffly at attention. The sympathy which bound them was too close -for those trifling distinctions to count, and between the officer -sitting and the soldier standing it was still Paul and Toni in private. -Paul was smoking now, and on his desk, under the green-shaded lamp, lay -a pretty little note. He was composing an answer to it with as much -care and precision as if it were a report to the Minister of War. The -light of the lamp fell on his blond head and fairish complexion. - -As Paul looked at Toni, he could not but think how Toni was improved -by being made into a soldier. He was certainly the best looking young -fellow in Paul's troop. - -"Well, Toni," said Paul, "out with it. I saw you on the tram to-day -with Denise." - -Toni turned red under his tan and sunburn. His mouth came open in a -delighted grin, showing every one of the large, white teeth. He brought -his straight, black brows together and said, in that tone of intimacy -which carried the officer and the soldier back to the days when they -belonged to the great democracy of boys and huddled together in the -nook on the old bridge at Bienville: - -"Denise loves me." He did not think it necessary to say how much he -loved Denise. Paul rose, and, putting both hands on Toni's shoulders, -gave him a vigorous shake of affection. - -"I am deuced glad to hear it," he said. "If you don't behave yourself -to that sweet girl after you are married I promise you the handsomest -drubbing you ever had in your life. What do you think the sergeant will -say?" - -"God knows!" said Toni, dolefully shaking his head. "I think he wants -to marry my mother, or marry the shop, that is. You see his term is -up, sir, next year. But I don't think my mother wants to marry him or -anybody else." - -"But would it be a good thing if the sergeant thought it would help his -chances with your mother if he agreed to let you have Denise?" asked -Paul, who was usually the soul of candor, but who, like all men, was -Machiavellian in love matters. - -"That it would, sir," answered Toni. - -"Very well," said Paul, grinning sympathetically at Toni, "I shall -speak to the sergeant myself about you. Unluckily the sergeant knows -us both too well--he used to see us when we were boys together at -Bienville. Still, you have been a good soldier, Toni, and I don't think -anything can be said against you." - -"Except--except--" here Toni's eyes grew wide and bright with fear, -"except about Nicolas and Pierre." - -"I hope we shall never see or hear anything more of those two -rapscallions again," replied Paul, "and, at all events, it is not worth -while to say anything about that part of your life. Toni, you are, in -some respects, the greatest coward I ever saw." - -"I know," answered Toni frankly. "I always was, you remember. I can't -help it. But, at least, I am not afraid of horses, nor of guns, nor of -fighting, if an officer will only stand by me and look at me very hard." - -Paul sat down at the desk and fingered the little note to which he was -composing a reply. He began to reflect how much better off Toni was -than himself. Toni was not held back from the girl of his choice by -any consciousness of inequality in worldly position, although a girl -of Denise's beauty, merit and fortune might certainly look higher than -Toni. But Lucie Bernard--when Paul thought of her millions of francs, -her beauty, and then saw himself, a sublieutenant of dragoons, the son -of a middle-class advocate at Bienville, his heart was like lead in his -breast. - -"Toni," said he presently, "do you remember how Mademoiselle Lucie -Bernard used to look in the old days at Bienville?" - -"Perfectly," cried Toni. "Don't I remember the day that she talked -with you in the park when I showed you where she was, and when Madame -Ravenel fainted, didn't I tell you so you could bring the water in your -cap? Oh, I remember Mademoiselle Lucie well. She was the prettiest -little lady and she is just the same now. I have seen her several times -since I have been here and she always smiles and nods at me so sweetly." - -Paul could not confide so frankly in Toni as Toni had confided in him, -but, nevertheless, they understood each other without any more words. -Paul sat and frowned and looked at his note. - -"Ah, Toni," he said, "this world is full of thorns for a sublieutenant -of dragoons without any fortune. You may go now." - -Toni went toward the door but paused, with the knob in his hand. "I -think," he whispered, "you will soon be as happy as I am," and then he -vanished through the door and went clattering down the corridor. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -After Toni had gone, Paul smoked and looked for a long time at the -pretty little note. He got one almost every day. Lucie wished him to -come to dinner, or to ride with her, or to send her a book, or to do -something which was an excuse to get Paul to the Château Bernard. - -And it was impossible that Madame Bernard should not know of all this; -but Paul remembered, with a groan, that Lucie had always been able to -wrap that imposing-looking person around her little finger. And would -it be right--would it be a manly thing--for a poor sublieutenant of -dragoons to take advantage of this childish fancy? Paul, resting his -blond head in both his hands, remembered that sometimes these youthful -attachments, which begin, as it were, with one's first look at life, -last throughout the whole play until the curtain goes down at the end. -This puzzled him still more, and he suddenly thrust Lucie's letter, and -her sweet image, and Toni, and Bienville and the whole business out of -his head, and, taking up a book on Strategy, studied until midnight. - -The note from Lucie was to ask him to ride with her the next afternoon -as she had a new horse and Madame Bernard was not quite willing to -trust her alone with a groom. No French girl would have sent such an -invitation, but Lucie had acquired, during her two years in America, -all the directness, the habit of command, the insight into a man's -mind of an American girl. Among the number of things which amazed but -charmed Paul was the astonishing invention Lucie displayed in bringing -Paul to her side. Of course, there was nothing for him to do but to -accept this invitation to protect Lucie's life, so the next afternoon -they were cantering gaily through the park toward the highroad, with -a groom in attendance. As they passed the place where Count Delorme's -body had been found, Lucie turned her head away with something like a -shudder. - -"I always hated him," she said, "until he was killed, but you can't -hate a dead man." - -"I can hate a scoundrel dead or alive," replied Paul stoutly. "He -ruined your sister's young life, he deserved to die a bad death." - -"I don't think Sophie's life is quite ruined," said Lucie. - -They had brought their horses down to a walk and the groom, who had -neither eyes nor ears, had fallen a little way behind. - -"Sophie is married to the man she loves--I am sure she would not -change Captain Ravenel for a Marshal of France if she could get him. -She has had great sorrows, but she has had great happiness, too. I -know perfectly well what Sophie did, and it was not right, but she was -cruelly punished for it." - -Paul, who was thoroughly French in his ideas of young ladies, was much -scandalized at this speech of Lucie's, but Lucie was more American -than French, and Paul knew the limpid innocence of her mind. Still he -thought that Lucie should be more guarded in her speech, and thought -that if he had the rare good fortune of marrying her, he would make her -a little more prudent. - -They soon struck the highroad and presently were passing through a -forest which was intersected by many roads. A crackling of shots was -heard in the distance--the troopers were practising at the rifle butts. -Paul turned to the groom and told him to ride forward and find out -where the butts were, and just then Toni appeared. Saluting Paul, Toni -said: - -"Pardon, sir, but the orders are that no one shall be allowed to cross -this road, and you will have to remain sir, if you please, on this -side." - -"But this lady's groom is on the other side. He will be back -presently," urged Paul. - -"Very sorry, sir," said Toni, with an air of polite determination, "but -those are the orders," and then Paul and Toni saluted gravely, and Toni -backed off. - -This meant that Paul and Lucie would have to take their ride alone -through the woods. Paul turned to Lucie and said: - -"You see, Mademoiselle, how it is--it can not be helped." - -"And I am sure I don't wish it to be helped," responded Lucie, in that -daredevil American manner of hers which shocked and charmed Paul. "Now -we can talk freely." - -There was, however, a road by which they could get back to the highway, -and along this they rode in the bright autumn afternoon. Presently they -came to a rivulet into which a little spring bubbled. They stopped -to let the horses drink, and when they were on the other side Lucie -suddenly raised up and cried: - -"I want some water, too," and before Paul could say a word she had -slid off her horse and, gathering up the skirt to her habit, ran to -the spring. She pulled off her gloves, and dipping up the water in the -hollow of her little hand, pretended to drink it, while it splashed -all over her fresh, fair face. Paul swung himself off his horse, and, -leaning up against a tree, watched Lucie with adoration in his eyes. -She had the unconscious grace of a child, but Lucie was no child--she -was a woman of gentle, yet fixed resolve, of strong and tender -feelings. She was in love with Paul and had been ever since she took -his English book away from him that summer afternoon in the park at -Bienville so many years ago; and reading Paul's mind, as she had read -that English book, she saw exactly what was in it,--that he was in love -with her and withheld by pride, diffidence and generosity, all three -excellent qualities in a man's love. And Lucie, having much practical -American sense in her charming head, had realized that an heiress -has to be very prudent in the man she marries, and that of all who -professed to love her, Paul was the only one who loved her well and -would not tell her of it. - -She looked at him, her face dimpling with laughter. He was such a great -goose, standing there, his eyes devouring her, and gnawing his mustache -for fear the words would come out that he wished to hold in. - -"Paul," she said, in a soft little voice, and Paul, against his will, -was forced to respond, "Lucie." - -"Come here," said Lucie. Paul came--he could no more have held back -than he could have stopped breathing. "Lend me your handkerchief." Paul -look his handkerchief out and Lucie wiped her hands upon it, and then, -without so much as saying, "By your leave," stuck it back in the breast -of his coat. This Paul thought delightful, but it was not propriety. - -"Paul," said Lucie, "suppose war were raging now and you knew there -would be a desperate battle to-morrow, what would you say to me now, if -you thought this were the very last interview we were to have before -you went out on the firing line?" - -Paul Verney was a man, after all, and his reply to this was very -obvious. - -"I should say, 'Lucie, I love you,'" he replied, holding out his hand -in which Lucie put hers. - -"Thank Heaven," cried Lucie, "at last! I would have proposed to you -long before if you had given me the least encouragement, for I made up -my mind to marry you just as soon as you made up your mind that you -loved me." - -She was laughing, but her eyes were dark with feeling and bright with -tears. - -"I have not asked you to marry me," whispered Paul, his voice trembling -a little. "I told you I loved you--no man ever loved a woman more than -I love you--but I don't think that I am any match for you, Lucie, and -it never seemed to me quite right that I should take advantage of all -the childish things you said to me when we were boy and girl, or of -your rashness and imprudence now, for Lucie, you are a very rash and -imprudent girl." - -"I am the most prudent person living," whispered Lucie, sidling up to -him. "I don't wish to be married for my money and you are the only man -I know who would marry me quicker without my fortune than with it--so -Paul--" - -Paul made one last hopeless and quite desperate stand. - -"Oh, Lucie," he said, "what a villain I am ever to have gone near you -after I saw--" - -"So you saw it, did you?" said Lucie, smiling, but still trembling. -"Everybody else saw it--the groom knows it, actually--it's quite -ridiculous"--and then Paul surrendered. A sudden revelation came to him -from Lucie's eyes that his two thousand francs a year mattered no more -than her millions--that it was not a question of francs, but of the -great master passion, which, when it enters lordly into the abode of a -man's or a woman's heart, drives out everything else and reigns supreme. - -They sat on a fallen tree and talked in whispers, those echoes of the -heart, until the shadows grew long, and it was Lucie who had to remind -Paul that it was time to go home. The horses, which had stood still -meanwhile, cocked their ears knowingly at Paul when he swung Lucie -into her saddle. They never saw the belated groom at all, nor cared -what had become of him as they rode back through the dying glow of the -autumn afternoon to the Château Bernard. Lucie ran up the stone steps -of the château, followed by Paul. At the prospect of meeting Madame -Bernard, this dashing young sublieutenant of dragoons felt as hopeless -and helpless as a drenched hen. It was one thing to tell Lucie of his -love in the forest glade, to the music of the silvery rippling spring, -with the red sun making a somber glory all around them and with no -one except the horses to listen, but to tell the chatelaine of the -Château Bernard about his two thousand francs the year was almost more -than Paul could stand. Lucie led the way into Madame Bernard's little -drawing-room. A wood fire was crackling on the hearth, for the evening -had grown chilly, and Madame Bernard, stately and timid, imposing and -nervous, with her everlasting embroidery, sat by the table on which -stood candles in tall silver candlesticks. Lucie went up and, putting -her arm around the neck of the fierce-eyed and craven-hearted old lady, -and seating herself on the arm of the chair, tipped the handsome old -face up and kissed her. - -"Grandmama," she said, "I have proposed and have been accepted. Paul -says he will marry me." - -Paul glared at Lucie. She was such an unconscionable joker. He came -forward, however, and said in his best manner, which was a very fine -manner: - -"Madame, it is I who proposed to Mademoiselle Lucie. If I did not love -her so much I should apologize for it, because I feel that she is -entitled to more of birth and of fortune and of rank than I can give -her. But I can give her more devotion and loyalty than any other man -living--of that I feel sure." - -Paul fully expected Madame Bernard to box his ears and call a footman -to throw him out of the house, but Madame Bernard did nothing of the -sort. She sighed a little and looked at Paul. She would have liked a -duke, at least, for Lucie--she had got a count for Sophie, but how -wretchedly had that match turned out. The habit of obedience was -strong upon Madame Bernard, and Lucie was of a nature so willing to -take responsibility for herself that it was always difficult to take -responsibility for her. Madame Bernard knew she was helpless, but, as -Paul had done, she made a feint of resistance. - -"Of course, Monsieur," she said in a voice and manner which she vainly -tried to make commanding, "in the event this marriage comes off I shall -expect you to resign from the army." - -Paul turned pale. This thought had never occurred to him before. Resign -from the army! And become gentleman usher to a rich wife! Never! - -"Madame," he said, "I have little to offer Mademoiselle Lucie, and the -best thing, in a worldly point of view, is the career that I hope to -make in my profession. That, I may say, if you will permit me, will not -be unworthy of Mademoiselle Lucie's acceptance, I trust." - -"Good for you, Paul," cried Lucie, "what you say is quite right, and, -grandmama, you might as well make up your mind to it. When Paul and I -are married I shall have to live in all sorts of dull little towns and -poky little holes and perhaps go to Algiers. I shall have to do just -what any other sublieutenant's wife has to do, and I shall like it -above all things. It will be like a masquerade, for we shall know when -Paul is a lieutenant-colonel, then we can live handsomely and enjoy our -money." - -Lucie's quick and comprehensive mind had already gone forward and -spanned the gulf between a sublieutenant and a lieutenant-colonel. -Madame Bernard sighed again. All womanly women are natural romancers -and love a lover, and she did not think less of Paul for his determined -stand. She began to see dimly that this prompt and quiet decision -in Paul's character was one of the reasons why Lucie loved him, and -it would be the most wholesome corrective possible to the faults in -Lucie's temperament. - -"As to the question of my consent, Monsieur," said Madame Bernard -grimly, "that seems to have been settled in advance by Lucie and -yourself." - -Lucie chased away the grimness from the old lady's face by kissing her. - -"Suppose we postpone consideration of this for a short time--a week, -perhaps, you will allow me." - -Paul was about to say, "Certainly, Madame," when Lucie interrupted him. - -"Say yes, Paul, it will amuse grandmama and won't hurt us the least -in the world." And then she kissed Madame Bernard all over her face -and cried: "Go home, Paul, and come early to-morrow. Grandmama will be -dying to see you!" - -Paul left the château in much better case than he expected and had a -rapturous ride back in the twilight with a shy young moon looking and -laughing at him. - -As he rode into the barracks yard he passed Toni, carrying a big bucket -of water in either hand. As he rode past he said in a whisper: - -"You brought me good fortune to-day." - -"And it's all settled?" asked Toni, in another whisper. - -"Quite so, I think," replied Paul, flinging himself off his horse. "I -will do a good turn by you with the sergeant to-morrow morning." - -When he got back to his quarters Powder, who had spent a lonely -afternoon, rushed at him with yaps of delight. Paul, twisting the dog's -ears, whispered: "My lad, you and I have just got a new commanding -officer. Hurrah, you rascal!" - -And Powder immediately gave a series of terrific yelps which he had -been taught to believe were hurrahs! - -The next morning Paul had two errands which took him out very early. -One was to send a bouquet to Lucie, and the other was to have an -interview with Sergeant Duval. He caught the sergeant just coming out -of the riding-hall. Everything had gone well that day and the sergeant -was smiling. - -"Well, sergeant," cried Paul, coming up to him, "so I understand that -my old friend Toni and Mademoiselle Denise are to be married." - -"I had not heard the news, sir," responded Sergeant Duval, stiffening. -"I thank you for acquainting me with it." - -"The fact is," said Paul, "Toni is terribly afraid of you, and he asked -me to make the communication. I thought perhaps something had passed -between your sister and Toni's mother, but, at all events, you know as -much about Toni as anybody. He is an excellent fellow, a fine soldier, -and has been in love with Mademoiselle Denise ever since he was a small -boy." - -"There were more small bad boys in Bienville than any place I ever saw, -sir," was the sergeant's discouraging reply, "and Toni was about the -worst of the lot." - -"Come, now, sergeant, you are too hard on Toni. He was no worse than -I was. All small boys are bad, but all of them that I have ever seen -had something good about them. Madame Marcel, you know, is well-to-do, -and when Toni's time is up he can get a place, I know, as instructor -in a riding-school at three hundred francs the month. I don't think -Mademoiselle Denise will do ill if you take Toni for a son-in-law." - -The sergeant twisted his mustache reflectively. - -"And beside that," continued Paul, who had become a marvel of -duplicity, "I understand that Madame Marcel is smiling on you. A -remarkably fine, handsome man you are, sergeant, and I am not surprised -that Madame Marcel likes you, but she would like you a great deal -better if you would give Denise to Toni. You see, it would be a nice, -family arrangement." - -A pleased grin overspread the sergeant's face. - -"Well, sir," he replied, "a man does not take a husband for his only -child without looking well about him. It is true that Madame Marcel is -well-to-do, and I could tie up Denise's dowry so that Toni couldn't -touch it, and perhaps I will think it over, sir, and let you know." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -The sergeant's views on the subject of Toni's marriage to Denise were -very much enlightened that afternoon by Madame Marcel's requesting an -interview with him in her own room. The sergeant arrayed himself in his -best uniform, paid a visit to the barber, waxed and dyed his mustaches -to the ultimate point, and then presented himself at Madame Marcel's -door. Madame Marcel was the most unsophisticated of women, but this did -not mean that she could not play a part, and play it well. Her part was -to persuade the sergeant that, after Toni and Denise were married, she -herself might become Madame Duval, a thing she had not the slightest -idea of doing. So she received the sergeant in the most gracious -manner, smiled at him, talked about the happiness of their children, -and seemed to think that married life was the only road to real bliss, -and that one could not marry too early or too often. The sergeant saw -that she had set her heart on the marriage between Toni and Denise and -that he would stand no chance whatever of establishing himself in the -comfortable back room of Madame Marcel's shop unless he agreed to the -match. So far he was quite correct, but in his further assumption that -by agreeing to it he was making good his title to the armed chair which -he coveted by the kitchen stove, he was miles out of the way. - -The result, however, was the same--that after much running to and fro, -and as many legal documents for Denise's ten thousand francs as for -Lucie's fortune, the matter was arranged; and on the day fortnight that -they had made a family party to the Golden Lion and had eaten and drunk -in the garden, they made an excursion to the same place to celebrate -the betrothal of Toni and Denise. It was too late then to sit out of -doors, so they had their little feast in a private room of the Golden -Lion with a glowing fire on the hearth. Madame Marcel insisted on being -the hostess on this occasion, and ordered a truly gorgeous supper. -There was a heart-shaped cake on the table with love birds pecking at -orange blossoms, and all the candies were hearts and darts and loves -and doves. Everything wore a sort of St. Valentine's air. Denise, in -a beautiful pink silk gown, sat next Toni at the table. There were -several of the Duvals' friends and two or three of Toni's comrades. - -When it was time to drink the bride's health, Toni went a message -out to where Madame Bernard's carriage stood in the courtyard. Out -stepped Paul and Lucie, leaving Madame Bernard in the carriage. When -they appeared in the supper-room there was a general commotion. Toni -had kept this impending honor a secret from every one, except Denise, -and Sergeant Duval was the more impressed by the compliment of Paul -Verney's coming through having it sprung on him as a surprise. Lucie -shook hands with Toni, kissed Denise on the cheek, remembered the -Sergeant and Mademoiselle Duval and Madame Marcel, bestowed bows and -smiles on all present, and, as she always did, brought an atmosphere -of kindness and gaiety with her. Paul shook Toni's hand and pronounced -an eulogy upon him, looking gravely into Toni's eyes at the time, and -neither one of them winked. He spoke as if, when Toni's time was up and -he should leave the regiment, he would be as much missed as the colonel -himself. Then he proposed the health of the betrothed pair and it was -drunk with all honors. - -The two pairs of lovers looked at each other--it recalled their -childish days at Bienville. How seldom does the course of true love run -smooth, and how smoothly had it run for them. Then Lucie and Paul left, -having almost persuaded the Duval faction that they had done themselves -great honor by securing Toni for Denise. - -The next morning it was Paul Verney's turn at the riding-school, and -as he walked along in the crisp autumn air, feeling as if Heaven was -around him as well as above him, he came face to face with Toni. Toni's -eyes were wide and dark with terror, his face was pale and he gnawed -his mustache furiously. The change since Paul had seen him the night -before was enough to shock any one. Toni did not wait to be asked what -was the matter, but, coming close to Paul, said in his ear: - -"They are here--Pierre and Nicolas--they lay in wait for me when I got -back to the barracks last night--they were in the batch of recruits -that came in yesterday." - -"What of it?" said Paul, who was not easily shaken. - -"They told me that unless I stood by them they would tell all -about--those--those things that happened when I was in the circus, and -about Count Delorme's death, and the rest of it. You know, sir, I am -as innocent--as innocent--" He pointed upward to a bird that sang and -swung upon a bough close by. His speech seemed to fail him. Nicolas and -Pierre in a single night had resumed all their old sway over him; he -was once more under the dominion of fear. - -"They were not conscripted, those two rascals?" said Paul. - -"No, they told me that the authorities were hot after them about the -Delorme matter. A twenty-franc piece was found which had a mark on -it and was traced to Count Delorme. It was the piece which they put -in my pocket and which I threw after them. Nothing could actually be -discovered against them, but they could not well get out of the way, -so they concluded the best thing to do was to enlist in a dragoon -regiment, and as they couldn't get away from this part of the country, -they thought it best not to try, and so came here." - -Toni wiped his forehead, on which the big drops stood. - -"Toni"--Paul spoke sharply--"be a man. Do you suppose when Denise -promised to marry you that she thought she was marrying a poltroon to -be scared by a ghost--afraid of a whisk of a rabbit's tail?" - -Toni groaned heavily. The little while that he had been free from fear -of his secret made its return seem the more dreadful to him. - -"It's--it's--it's a very horrible thing to feel that you have two men -at your heels ready to swear that you have been engaged in murder and -robbery and arson." - -"But if you have not committed murder and robbery and arson, you have -nothing to fear," replied Paul, speaking sternly. Toni made no answer, -but shook his head. Paul then tried persuasion on him, but nothing -could lessen Toni's fear of his two old companions. - -Paul went on to the riding-school. Pierre and Nicolas, proud of their -accomplishments as riders, were anxious to exhibit their skill. -Neither of them was as graceful a rider as Toni though, and Nicolas -was beetle-browed and red-headed, while Pierre was a combination of -a fox and a monkey. Sergeant Duval was a judge of men, and not all -their accomplishments inclined him favorably toward them, nor did -he, after a month's trial, have reason to reverse his opinion, for, -from the beginning, two worse soldiers could not be found. They were -always under punishment; they either would not or could not learn their -duty, and it was a source of regret to their superiors that they would -receive so many punishments they would probably be obliged to serve -another enlistment. The sergeant did his whole duty in reporting them, -and Paul Verney, in whose troop they were, in punishing them. Paul -very much hoped that they would reach the limit and have to be sent to -Algiers as _disciplinaires_. - -Toni went about like a man in a dream. Part of the time he was the -happiest fellow alive, and part of the time the most miserable. In his -happiest moments with Denise, he was haunted by a dread of what Nicolas -and Pierre might do, and in his paroxysms of fear, when he waked in -the night and lay still and trembling amid the snoring troopers around -him in the barracks, the thought of Denise comforted him. For Denise -found out that there was something the matter with him, and gently chid -him for not telling her, and when Toni would not, for indeed he could -not, poor frightened fellow that he was, tell her, Denise did not grow -petulant, but showed him a tender confidence. There was much more in -Denise than mere prettiness and blondness and neatness and coquetry. -She was a soldier's daughter and was not without some of Sergeant -Duval's resolution. So Toni found that with all his grief and anxiety -he had the quiet, unspoken and, therefore, more helpful sympathy of the -woman he loved. Denise did not worry him with questions--that was much. - -The sergeant and all the men in the troop knew of Toni's former -associations in the circus with Nicolas and Pierre, but as neither of -the two latter had succeeded in making himself an object of admiration -to his comrades, nothing they could say would injure Toni. Still, they -maintained their strange power over him. Toni would have liked never to -speak to them nor to be seen with them, but when they would come after -him he had no capacity of resistance--he would go with them, cursing -them, but unable to withstand them. - -In the spring he was relieved of some of this. Pierre and Nicolas had -taken a special spite against their sublieutenant, Paul Verney, and -they had shamefully abused one of his favorite chargers. Paul promptly -procured for them two months' incarceration in the military prison. -These were two months of Paradise to Toni. He had in him something of -a happy-go-lucky disposition, and although he could not shake off his -miserable secret he could put it out of sight for a while. It did not -trouble him much in the day, but never failed to visit him at night. - -It was known, by that time, that he was to marry Denise when the -sergeant should retire on his pension, which would be a year from the -coming summer. Like a lover, Toni had protested strongly against this, -but, as a matter-of-fact, it did not greatly affect his happiness. -He liked playing the part of a lover and reasoned, with true Toni -philosophy, that he might well enjoy the present without hungering too -much after the future. He saw Denise every day, danced with her three -times a week, spent every Sunday when he was off duty with her, and -ate, several times a week, most agreeable dishes prepared by Denise's -own hands. - -Madame Marcel, meanwhile, had returned to Bienville, but promised to -make Toni another visit before long. She left the sergeant far from -hopeless, and by enclosing a special package of chocolate in the New -Year box which she sent Toni and Denise, gave him great hopes. In -fact, under Toni's able instruction, Madame Marcel was playing the -sergeant with great skill and finesse, and that infatuated person never -suspected it. - -It was a happy time with Paul Verney, too. Like Toni, he was an -accepted lover, but his marriage was to come off in June. He had taken -a small, pretty house in the town, for although Madame Bernard urged -and even commanded that the new married pair should live with her, -Paul Verney had a sturdy independence about him. His two thousand -francs would pay the rent of his house and his parents, by skimping -and screwing in every possible way, managed to scrape up two thousand -francs more, without letting Paul know how much it encroached on their -narrow income. But Lucie, with her quick American sense, saw through -it in an instant and positively refused to let Paul take it under any -circumstances. - -"Paul," she said, when the subject was broached between them, "I am -willing to play at being poor for your sake and for the looks of the -thing, but how absurd it is for us not to enjoy what is ours." - -"What is yours, you mean," mumbled Paul. - -"But yours and ours do not exist between persons who love and -understand each other as we do. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, -it were yours instead of mine--then, I should not have to be so -particular always to say ours." - -So Paul Verney, like other men, had to yield to the inevitable -feminine, and although they were to live modestly enough, it was, as -Lucie said, mere playing at poverty. It seemed to Paul, in fulfilling -his childish romance as Toni had fulfilled his, that they were drawn -nearer together even than when they were boys at Bienville. The -relation of master and servant, which had always been a fiction of -the imagination so to speak, seemed to vanish wholly. Toni was Paul's -humble friend and confidant. When Paul would come home, after dining at -the Château Bernard and an evening spent basking in Lucie's smiles and -glances, he would feel as if he were stepping on air, and there Toni -would be, standing at the window drawing pictures of Denise in an old -copy-book. He would glance with a roguish smile at Paul as he helped -him off with his clothes, and say: - -"Mademoiselle has been kind to-night, hasn't she?" - -"Yes, she is always kind--the darling," Paul would reply. - -"And the old lady?" - -"When she is got up in her velvet gown and her big silk mantle, and -her bonnet with plumes on it, she always reminds me of the general's -charger at a grand parade. And she is about as much to be feared," -said Paul, laughing. "I would rather encounter a dozen Madame Bernards -than one Sergeant Duval. I think the sergeant lives for the purpose of -catching you tripping--that is to say in the event that your mother -doesn't marry him." - -"Women are the oddest creatures in the world," Toni said solemnly, -blinking his eyes. "There's my mother. She has been a widow for twenty -years and, if you believe me, the way she is fooling the sergeant would -put a sixteen-year-old girl to the blush." Then Toni told about the -box of chocolate. "And it will be boxes of chocolate straight along -until she gets me married to Denise, and then--pouf!--away will go the -sergeant. She would not marry him to save his life. The sergeant is a -fine man, too--better than I am, but she loves me best." - -These hours of confidence were not among the least pleasant in the -lives of Paul and Toni. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Early in the month of June, the month of roses, the wedding of Paul -and Lucie came off. The civil wedding occurred one day, but the great -event was the religious ceremony on the next day. It took place in the -garrison chapel, which was beautifully decorated for the occasion. It -was a very grand wedding, for the Bernards were great people, but it -was likewise a very happy wedding. A great many persons wondered why -a girl of Lucie Bernard's beauty, fortune and position should marry a -little sublieutenant of dragoons, but when they came to see and know -the little sublieutenant, and how much liked and respected he was by -everybody, it did not seem remarkable at all. Lucie's most valued -wedding present was a huge amethyst bracelet, bought by the voluntary -subscriptions of the men in Paul's own troop out of their small pay. -Lucie wore it at her wedding, her only other ornament being a modest -pearl brooch which was Paul's gift. - -It was a glorious June day when Lucie Bernard became Lucie Verney. The -garrison chapel was packed, and Sergeant Duval commanded the guard -of honor. Toni, who had helped to dress Paul for the great occasion, -scampered off, with Powder under his arm, to the church, where he met -Denise and her aunt. He escorted them to seats of honor reserved for -them, a compliment to Toni which materially improved his standing with -Mademoiselle Duval. The church was filled with music from the great -organ, and outside the air was melodious with the song of birds and -the rustling of leaves and the swaying of blossoms. Among the happiest -faces in the church were those of Monsieur and Madame Verney, and -also two persons that Toni had not seen for a long time, Captain and -Madame Ravenel. Madame Ravenel was, for once, not in black, and her -pale beauty was set off by a white gown. Her usually sad face wore a -happy and tremulous smile. She felt herself the forgiven sinner and was -not, as most sinners are, proud of her sins and contemptuous of their -forgiveness. Lucie had demanded that Sophie and her husband be asked to -the wedding and even to stay as guests at the Château Bernard. Madame -Bernard, after having protested, vowed and declared for six months -that such should not be the case, promptly capitulated three weeks -before the wedding. This meant the complete rehabilitation of Captain -and Madame Ravenel and their return to that world from which their own -desperate act had hurled them for a time. They had humbled themselves -and had been punished, and had taken their punishment as proud and -honorable souls do, acknowledging its justice and making no outcry. -But now it was over, and forgiveness had been won for them by Lucie -Bernard's generous and determined little hand, which had never ceased -to labor for them since she was ten years old. - -While the church full of people was awaiting the entrance of the bride -and bridegroom, Toni whispered to Denise that they would be married in -the same church and that he expected to be as happy as Monsieur Paul, -who was the happiest man he had ever seen. Paul's countenance, when he -stood before the altar with Lucie on his arm, fully sustained this. -Many bridegrooms wear a hunted and dejected appearance, but not so -Paul Verney, although he had been hunted and captured by the charming -creature at his side. Lucie, for once, was subdued, but her pallor -and the tears that trembled in her dark eyes did her as much honor -as Paul's happy countenance. She was asking herself all the time if -she were really worthy of a man like Paul. But she recovered all her -composure when they turned and marched out of the church together and -passed under the uplifted swords of the guard of honor, and she was -quite smiling and self-possessed, looking about her with the laughing, -playful, penetrating glance peculiarly her own, and holding up her arm -on which the big bracelet shone, to the delight of the honest hearts of -the soldiers. - -There was a large wedding breakfast at the Château Bernard, which was -at its loveliest in June, with its broad, green terraces, its plashing -fountains and the riot of color in its prim flower beds. The guests -sat at many little tables on the broad terrace, where the bride and -groom and the wedding party had a very gorgeous one in the middle, just -by the fountain, which sparkled brilliantly in the sunshine. A little -way off, in a grove of elm trees, a table was set for the soldiers who -had acted as the guard of honor at the wedding ceremony. Their wives -and sweethearts were included, and here Toni was the great man, second -only to Sergeant Duval, who was the ranking non-commissioned officer -present. Toni was the bridegroom's humble friend and everybody knew the -closeness of the tie which had existed between them since boyhood. - -Toni made a speech which was a marvel of elegance and correctness. It -had been written for him by Paul Verney two weeks before, and he had -spent the whole fortnight getting it by heart. But at the end Toni -suddenly burst into an impromptu speech of his own. - -"The lieutenant," he said, "is the best lieutenant, he is the best man, -he is the best master, he is the best of everything--" - -Here Toni, without the least expectation on his part, suddenly -found the tears rolling down his cheeks. He laughed and could not -imagine what he was crying for and then his fellows all applauded him -vociferously, and Toni sat down and was not able to say another word. -And then, when they were through with their breakfast, they saw the -bride and groom approaching, Lucie holding up her dainty white skirts, -her filmy veil floating about her and with nothing on her dark hair -except her wedding veil and wreath. Paul carried his helmet with its -horse-hair plume in his hand, and the sun shone on his happy sunburned -face as he led Lucie to where their humble friends were making merry. -Toni had hauled out, from under the table, a mysterious box filled with -ice and with long-necked bottles, and champagne was soon bubbling in -every glass. The sergeant made a speech quite out of his own head, and -much better than Toni's, in which he assured Paul Verney of what he -knew before--that his troop would die for him to a man. Paul returned -thanks and declared that he was conscious of commanding the finest -troop in the French army, and then Lucie said a few pretty words of -thanks and held up her arm with the great bracelet on it and showed -that she had worn no other ornament except that and the bridegroom's -gift. Then there were more cheers, more champagne, more of everything. -It was a very happy wedding because it made many persons happy. - -The very happiest person at the wedding, next to Paul and Lucie, was -Madame Verney. That excellent woman was fully persuaded that by her -efforts alone and single-handed, she had brought about this match -between Paul and Lucie, which otherwise never would have taken place. -The relatives and friends of the Bernards were very grand people, -indeed, but Paul had no reason to be ashamed of his family contingent. - -When the guests were all gone and only the family remained, Toni -requested Paul to let the party from Bienville, consisting of himself -and the Duvals, speak to the Bienville persons present--the Verneys -and the Ravenels,--and this Paul very gladly did. The Ravenels and -the Verneys were very kind, as was their nature, to their humbler -friends from their native town. Paul did Toni a very good service -by proclaiming before all the Bienville people, in Sergeant Duval's -presence, that Toni was the best fellow alive and the sergeant was -doing well to betroth his daughter to such an excellent fellow. This -was accepted by the Bienville people because on that glorious day -everything went well. They could not but observe, however, that Toni -was clean instead of being dirty, and Paul assured them that he had -become as industrious as he had before been idle. - -When the carriage drove off, in the summer dusk, with the bride and -groom starting on their wedding journey, Toni was the last person with -whom they shook hands, as he arranged them comfortably, and then Toni -whispered to Denise: - -"We will be just as happy as they some day." - -The next morning Toni waked up with a feeling of happiness which had -been gradually growing on him ever since he had become a private -soldier under Paul Verney. This made him long to whistle and sing like -a blackbird had not the regulations forbidden soldiers to sing like -blackbirds while at their duties. But the first sight that greeted him, -as he marched on the parade ground, gave him an unpleasant shock. There -were Nicolas and Pierre in the ranks. Their term of imprisonment had -expired, and these two unworthy citizens were restored to their duties. - -Toni avoided them all day long as much as he could, and in the evening, -being off duty, he went into the town to see Denise. After spending -half an hour with her, sitting on a bench in the public square while -Mademoiselle Duval read her inevitable religious newspaper, a drizzle -of rain coming on, he escorted his fiancée and his future aunt-in-law -to their lodging, then walked down into the town to spend the hour that -yet remained to him before he was obliged to turn in. The night had -grown dark and stormy and the rain had become a determined downpour. -The street lamps shone fitfully out of the gloom, but the windows of -the cheap cafés, where the soldiers congregated, were resplendent with -lights. - -Toni was standing before one of these and debating whether he should -go in when he felt an arm on each side of him. He looked around and -Nicolas' red head was close to his ear, while Pierre's monkey face was -on the other side of him. - -"Come," said Nicolas, "I know where we can get a good bottle of wine -and have a game of cards." - -Toni could easily have wrenched himself free from them, but his old -cowardice returned to him with a rush. He went sullenly with them under -a moral compulsion which he could not have explained to save his life. -He hated and feared their company; nevertheless, he went with them. -They turned into a dark and narrow side street and then, diving into a -blind alley so dark and noisome that Toni's heart sank within him at -the thought of the crimes that could be committed there, they climbed -a rickety outside stair by the side of a tumble-down old house. Toni -found himself presently in a garret room, dimly lighted by a malodorous -oil lamp. It was evidently a place of entertainment for a low class -of persons. There were sounds of voices below them and next them, -but this room was unoccupied. There was a table in the middle of the -floor and wine and glasses on it. Toni sat down, much against his will, -and Pierre, pouring out some of the wine, which was vile, began to -expatiate on the delights of liberty. - -"This is a million times better," he said, "than being locked up in -prison with the devil of a sentry keeping his eye on one perpetually -and three days on bread and water for sneezing." - -Toni longed to say that that was what both of them richly deserved, but -dared not. Then Nicolas began: - -"We should not have been imprisoned at all but for that scoundrel, -Lieutenant Verney. He has a spite against us and takes it out as only -an officer can on a private soldier." - -"It's a lie," cried Toni. This aspersion on their honor was not in the -least resented by either Pierre or Nicolas, who knew, as only they and -God did, what liars they were. - -"Well, Toni," Nicolas continued, "I understand that you are to marry -the sergeant's daughter. My faith, you look prosperous. Count Delorme's -money must have done you a lot of good." - -"I never had any of Count Delorme's money!" burst out Toni. - -"Who is lying now?" murmured Nicolas softly. "What about the -twenty-franc piece?" - -"That was certainly a very neat job of yours, Toni," said Pierre. "I -have never seen a man done for quicker than you did for Count Delorme. -One blow like this--" He drew off and went through a pantomime of -giving Nicolas a blow on the side of the head. Nicolas, likewise -pretending, tumbled over in his chair as Count Delorme had fallen over -in the dark at the Château Bernard. It made Toni sick to see them. -They laughed, after they had gone through with this mimic tragedy, and -began to drink their wine. Then they again abused Paul Verney, and Toni -said nothing. He scorned to defend his friend from two such scoundrels -as those before him and he longed to get away, but that strange and -inscrutable fear of them nailed him to his chair. Presently Nicolas -said to him: - -"Toni, we might as well tell you the truth. Lieutenant Verney is to -die." - -To die! Paul, so full of life, so happy, only yesterday married! He saw -Paul's smiling face as he waved his hand back to Toni when he drove off -in the open carriage with Lucie, through the golden dusk of the June -evening. But he did not quite take in what Nicolas meant. - -"Yes," said Pierre, "have you never heard, my man, of officers who -abused and ill-treated their men, who were found dead like Count -Delorme?--I won't say murdered--that's an ugly word to say. But it -isn't altogether safe for an officer to persecute a man, particularly a -couple of men--it's just as well to make an example of an officer like -that once in a while." - -A cold horror came upon Toni. After a moment he spoke. - -"So you mean to waylay Lieutenant Verney as you did Count Delorme?" he -asked. - -"No indeed, my dear fellow," briskly responded Nicolas. "It will be -quite a different affair from that little one of yours. We mean to kill -him, however, but we will try our chances among the three of us. We -don't care to take the whole risk ourselves, and I think, considering -how quiet we have kept about that little affair of yours in the park -of the Château Bernard that you ought to help us out. So we will play -a game of cards and the loser is to finish up Lieutenant Verney or be -finished up himself. That is quite fair. Don't you agree to that, -Pierre?" - -Pierre nodded and grinned. Toni sat looking at them stupidly by the -light of the oil lamp. He took in instantly what they meant--they -intended that he should kill Paul Verney or else be killed himself. -Nicolas took out of his pocket a greasy pack of cards and said: - -"What shall it be--écarté?" - -"As you please," responded Pierre. - -Toni would have given his soul, almost, to have rushed out of the room, -but he was Toni still as boy and man. He had been cowed and enslaved -by certain strange fears which many persons exercised over him, and -these scoundrels in particular. He thought of himself as murdered by -these wretches, who, he knew, would do it with as little compunction -as they would wring the neck of a chicken. He thought of Denise, of -Paul Verney, and he was overwhelmed with sorrow for them and pity for -himself, for he understood that he must die. - -The cards were dealt and Toni took his up. He was in a horrible dream, -but he retained enough of his faculties to know how the game was going. -Nicolas and Pierre were quite cheerful and they squabbled merrily -over the game and took all the tricks. When they had finished, Nicolas -slapped Toni on the back and said jovially: - -"Well, my man, you have got the job." - -Toni made no reply. He was too frightened to speak, and then Nicolas, -suddenly growing perfectly serious, said: - -"You know we begin our practice marches in about a fortnight. Now, -on our first practice march you are to be ill and drop out of the -ranks--see?--when the lieutenant is riding by the side of the troop -where he can see you, and you must select a place where there is a -thicket in which a man's body can be hid from the observation of the -people passing by. Now, when the lieutenant comes back to see what -is the matter with you, it will be quite easy--he will be completely -off his guard--and then--you had better do it with a knife--a knife -makes no noise, you know, and if you don't know how to use a knife -on Lieutenant Verney--well, we'll use it on you--that's all--and on -Lieutenant Verney later." - -Toni's arms dropped by his side and he uttered a low groan. What folly -ever had thrown him with these men--what madness was his not to have -come out and told the truth about Count Delorme! And now his life -must pay the penalty for it, and just as it was growing so sweet to -him. He staggered to his feet and groped his way to the door, Pierre -and Nicolas making no effort to stop him. They saw that they had fully -impressed him with what they meant to do. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Toni got back to the barracks, he knew not how, stumbling along through -the rain and darkness, and throwing himself on his rough bed lay awake -and agonized the whole night through until the bugle call next morning. -He could not eat that whole day nor sleep the next night and pined like -a woman. During that day he saw Nicolas and Pierre a dozen times at -least, and they always flashed him a mocking glance which he understood -perfectly well and which gave him a feeling as if a red-hot iron hand -were clutching his heart, for Toni was of an imaginative nature. - -He did not see Denise that day, and spent another sleepless and -horror-stricken night. The next morning it occurred to him, as a means -of escaping Denise's tender and searching eyes, as well as the hateful -company of Pierre and Nicolas, that he might possibly sham illness and -be sent to the hospital. He did not need to sham, however--he was in -a high fever and the surgeon swore at him for not reporting before, -so he found a temporary haven of refuge in the hospital. There he -spent several days. The doctor, who was a clever young fellow, was a -good deal puzzled by the case. He could not make out whether Toni was -malingering or not. He evidently wished to be considered ill--at the -same time there were indications about him of his being really ill. If -he had not had the reputation of being an admirable soldier, the doctor -would have suspected Toni had done something wrong and was in hiding, -as it were, in the hospital. - -The sergeant called to see him and was rather rough with him -considering that nothing was the matter with Toni. - -"Do you think I would lie here and take all these nasty messes if there -were nothing the matter with me?" cried poor Toni. - -There was indeed something very serious the matter with him, but it -was a kind of suffering which not all the doctor's instruments and -medicines could reach. Denise, with her aunt, called twice to see him, -but both times Toni feigned to be asleep as soon as he distinguished -their voices, and it was against the rules to disturb him. - -A week passed, on the second morning of which he found a long, sharp -knife under his pillow, and at the end of that time the doctor turned -Toni out of the hospital, much against the latter's will. He had then -to resume his duties, of course, and affect cheerfulness as well as he -could. He succeeded rather better in the last respect than might have -been expected, and Denise only saw in him the weakness and lassitude -which she thought were due to his recent illness. - -On the day fortnight after Paul Verney's wedding, he returned with -his bride--the honeymoon of a sublieutenant is inevitably brief. The -very next day the practice march was to begin and Toni did not see -Paul Verney until the next morning when the troop was forming in the -barracks square. - -The regiment marched out with colors flying to do a practice march of -two days' duration. Paul was riding at the head of his troop. He was a -fine horseman and had a good military air and everything about him was -spick and span as becomes an officer. - -Toni, who was at the end of the file, got a good look at Paul as he -cantered along by the side of the troopers and a look of affectionate -intelligence flashed between the two young men. Toni saw that Paul was -truly happy--he was in fact always happy when performing his military -duties, because he was born a soldier, apt at obedience and ready at -command. In the same file with Toni rode Nicolas and Pierre. - -They passed out of the town on the dusty highroad, their helmets -gleaming in the sun and the steady tramp of their horses' hoofs -sounding like thunder on the highroad and raising a great white dust -like a pillar of cloud by day. Crowds of people ran out to see them, -and cheered them as they passed. The day was bright and warm, but not -hot enough to distress either the men or the horses. They kept on -steadily until noon, when there was an hour of rest and refreshment. -Again they took up the line of march. A cool breeze was blowing and -it was as pleasant a June day as one could wish for marching. Towards -three o'clock, as they were passing the outskirts of a wood, Toni -put his hand to his head and reeled in his saddle. His horse kept on -steadily in the ranks. It was very well simulated and Paul rode up and -caught Toni by the arm. - -"You had better drop out," he said, "and rest a while by the roadside -and rejoin when you feel better." Toni touched his cap and said, -"Thank you, sir," and slipping out of his saddle, led his horse to a -grassy place under a tree, where he sat down and mopped his face. He -looked quite pale and weak, but the surgeon, when he rode up, gave him -a sharp look, made him drink some wine and water out of his canteen, -and said: "You will be all right in ten minutes," and rode on. - -Ten minutes passed and twenty and thirty. The regiment was out of -sight. Toni's troop was a part of the rear guard. The dull echo of -thousands of hoofs still resounded afar off, but all else was quiet -in that shaded woody spot, with farm-houses basking in the sun, the -highroad gleaming whitely, and the railway beyond making two streaks of -steel-blue light in the distance. Toni, with his helmet off, and his -horse browsing quietly near him, sat on the ground under the shade with -the glaring midday light around him and waited for Paul Verney, who -he knew would return. No lieutenant in the regiment looked so closely -after his men as he. Presently Toni heard the galloping of a horse and -the rattling of a saber in its scabbard, and there was Paul riding up. -He swung himself off his horse and came up to Toni and said: - -"I came back to see what was the matter with you. I thought you would -have rejoined by this time." - -Toni made no reply, but raised his black eyes to Paul's blue ones and -they were so full of misery that Paul involuntarily put his hand on -Toni's shoulder and asked, "What is it?" - -Toni tried to speak, but the words would not come. Paul, putting his -hand in his breast, drew out a small flask of brandy and poured the -best part of it down Toni's throat. - -"Now," he said, "tell me what it is." - -Toni's vocabulary was not extensive and he hunted around in his mind -for language to express the horror of what he was suffering, but he -could only find the simplest words. - -"Nicolas and Pierre--," he said, "those scoundrels--have ordered me to -kill you. They say if I don't they will kill me and kill you afterward -themselves." - -There was silence for a minute or two after this. - -Paul knew very well that Toni was neither drunk nor crazy, and he -grasped at once all that Toni meant. His face grew pale and his blond -mustache twitched a little. - -"So they want to put me out of the way--what for?" - -"Because they think you are responsible for their being in trouble -so much. They are desperate men, Paul." Toni used Paul's name -unconsciously, but he was thinking then of Paul as he had known him -years ago, an apple-cheeked boy who understood him and even understood -Jacques. - -Paul took his helmet off and let the cool breeze blow on his -close-cropped sandy hair. - -"Come, now," he said, "tell me all about it--how it happened." - -"It is about Count Delorme," said Toni, gasping between his sentences. -"You know, Paul, I always was a coward about most things." - -"Yes, I know." - -"And when I was in the circus those two rascals used to take me with -them sometimes on their robbing expeditions and make me keep watch and -help to carry off the stolen things. I was frightened to death at what -they made me do--too frightened to refuse to go with them. I never -knew of their killing anybody, except Count Delorme, but that night -they waylaid him in the dark, I swear to you--oh! God, I swear to you -a million times--I never touched Count Delorme. I thought they were -going to rob him only--I did not dream they were going to kill him. But -he resisted when they tried to get his money, and Nicolas struck him a -blow and he fell over. And they put a twenty-franc piece in my pocket -and swore that I had killed him and robbed him. Then I determined to -get away from them and so, when I was conscripted, I could have got off -because I was the only son of a widow, but I thought if I were in the -army I might escape them and I meant then to hunt for you and to tell -you all about it. And I thought I had escaped them--oh! how happy I -was--but they turned up as you know and I have not had a moment's peace -since. Two weeks ago they forced me to go with them--" - -"'Forced you to go with them!'" said Paul indignantly. "Toni, you are -the greatest coward." - -"I know it," replied Toni. "I always was. And they told me that they -meant to kill you and we played a game of cards to determine whether -they should do it or I--_I_--think of it! Of course I lost, and they -promised me if I didn't kill you that I should be killed. And they told -me to drop out of the ranks and that you would come after me, and they -put this knife where I could find it." Toni drew it from his bosom. It -was an ordinary table knife, but of well-tempered steel and as sharp -as a razor. "And I was to kill you and leave your body here where it -could not be found for several hours--and make the best of my way off. -Of course, I should have been caught and guillotined, but what did they -care about that?" - -Toni turned and threw the knife as far as he could into the bosky -thicket behind him. Paul Verney, who was as quiet as a lamb and as -brave as a lion, looked at Toni sorrowfully. - -"I think I can get rid of those two rapscallions in time," he said, -"get them sent to Algiers. But they will have to come back sometime." - -"That's what I know," said Toni. "We are under sentence of death, Paul, -and it is all my fault." - -The ghost of a smile came into Paul Verney's face. - -"No," he answered, "not exactly your fault, Toni. You were born that -way, so you can't help yourself." - -"And we are both so happy," cried Toni, and at this he burst into a -passion of tears, sobbing as he had not sobbed since he was a small -boy and his mother had the rheumatism and he thought she was going to -die. Paul turned his back and walked up and down in front of Toni for a -minute or two, and when he spoke his voice was husky. - -"Yes," he said, "we are both very happy, or would be except for those -wretches. But, Toni, you must keep every hint of this from Denise and I -shall certainly keep it from my wife." - -"You may be able to," replied poor Toni, "because you are brave and -self-possessed, but you know how I am. I am likely to let it out any -time." - -"If you do," said Paul sternly, "you may look to hear from me. Toni, -have you no shame at being such a coward?" - -"Not a bit," replied Toni. "As you say, I was born that way. I am not -afraid of horses nor of guns nor of anything that other people are -afraid of." - -Paul inspected Toni in wrath and sorrow. He was the identical Toni that -had enjoyed a ride on the runaway horse, and was cowed and terrified by -the laughs and jeers of a couple of the tailor Clery's boys, either of -whom he was perfectly well able to thrash if he had wished. Paul Verney -was not, physically, half the man that Toni was, but not all the five -Clery boys, with their father at their head, could have frightened him -when he was a very small boy himself. Paul would have taken a thrashing -from them one day and be ready to repeat it the next, but the mere -thought of a thrashing frightened Toni out of his wits. - -How much more, then, did the thought of being murdered scare him! Yet -if Toni had been driven into the forlorn hope--"the last children" as -the French picturesquely put it--he would have behaved as well as any -man in it. - -Paul Verney looked around him at the smiling, peaceful landscape -basking in the afternoon light, and thought of Lucie at the château. -She was probably practising her music at that hour, and then she would -go for her afternoon ride with only a groom to accompany her. He would -be absent from her for two whole days, and Lucie had spent a week in -devising schemes for getting rid of the time. Paul was as much in love -with her as she was with him, but it never occurred to him that there -was any difficulty in getting rid of the time during his absence from -her--he had his work to do and he meant to do it well, nor did he let -the thought of Lucie interfere in the least with his duty. He had -cheerfully given that promise demanded of all lovers, that he would -tell Lucie everything. As he had nothing to tell her of the least harm, -or of the least consequence, he had laughingly made the promise. But -now there was something he must conceal from her; something, the mere -thought of which would blight that merry, beautiful, rose-in-bloom life -that Lucie was leading; something which, if it ever came to pass, would -blight it altogether. - -Paul pulled himself together and turned his mind, as he had the power -to do, resolutely away from the grisly probability presented to him. - -"Toni," said he, "don't think about this thing. I believe I can get -those two scoundrels out of the way, and I will; so take another pull -out of this brandy flask and get on your horse and follow me." - -Toni did as he was told and was soon galloping at Paul Verney's heels. -The thought of Denise was before him. He knew that sometime he should -tell her--he could not keep it from her--and what would Denise say, -and what would she do?--be scared as he was? Presently they found -themselves in the cloud of dust which enveloped the regiment and Toni -made his way to his place at the end of the file, Paul Verney cantering -past. As Toni reined up he looked around the file and saw the red -mustache and ferret-like eyes of Nicolas peering out along the line of -mustached and helmeted heads. Nicolas gave him an indescribable look--a -look with murder in it. Toni had had his chance, and Paul Verney had -come back unharmed. That night in the bivouac Nicolas and Pierre came -up to Toni and Nicolas whispered in his ear: - -"You have two more chances--we will give you three opportunities all -together." - -Toni said not a word in reply. He only wondered dumbly, how much of -life that meant for him. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -On the afternoon of the day when they returned to Beaupré Paul Verney -ordered Toni to report to him at the Château Bernard for a message. -Paul and Lucie were having tea together at a little table on the -terrace when Toni arrived. Anything more brilliant and sparkling than -Lucie's face could not be imagined. She smiled charmingly on Toni, -inquired after Denise and sent word to her to come to the château. Paul -looked as cheerful and composed as ever, and said to Lucie in quite a -matter-of-fact, husbandlike manner: - -"I have some business to attend to, so I must ask you to excuse me." - -Lucie had found out this early in her married life, that when Paul had -business to attend to she must vanish, which she did promptly. Then -Paul, lighting his cigar gaily, said to Toni, standing at attention, -the picture of dejection: - -"Well, Toni, I think I have settled those two fellows. I had a talk -with the colonel about them to-day and he says that while we were away -on the practice march some of their doings came to light, and that we -would be able to send them to Algiers as _disciplinaires_. There is a -batch going off next week, and we shall try to send our friends along -with them." - -"How long will they be away?" asked Toni. - -"That depends," replied Paul. "We can only send them for a year as it -is--if they keep on as they have been behaving here they may have to -spend the rest of their lives in Algiers. But to get them out of the -way for the present is good fortune enough. I have told the colonel the -whole story about Count Delorme, and what a perfectly abject coward you -are, Toni, in many ways, and he agrees with me that we had better not -open the whole subject, but just get these two rascals off quietly. So -if you can manage to keep from bawling like a baby for the next week -and will be only half a man, the thing can be settled." - -"I will try," said Toni, without making any promise of not bawling like -a baby. - -The good news, however, did enable him to keep from letting the whole -thing out to Denise. She found Toni rather depressed and unhappy during -that week, but on the morning when the batch of hard cases was put on -the train to be started for Marseilles, and Nicolas and Pierre were -among them, Toni's heart bounded with joy. He could not deny himself -the pleasure of seeing his two old comrades off. They were the most -sullen and angry of all the sullen and angry _disciplinaires_ sent to -atone for their misdeeds under the fierce sun of Africa. As the train -moved slowly off, Nicolas thrust his red head out of the window and, -shaking his fist at Toni, cried: - -"Don't forget--we shan't forget." - -Toni, however, tried his best to forget, and succeeded beyond his -expectations. He had thought himself lucky when Nicolas and Pierre were -out of sight, but now, when he remembered that they were in Africa, and -called to mind all the chances of fever and cholera and other things -that, if they befell his two comrades in arms, would be of distinct -benefit to him, he felt positively cheerful, and, as Paul Verney said, -if Pierre and Nicolas kept up their career as they had done since they -had joined the regiment, they would probably leave their bones in -Africa. - -So Toni, thrusting off his load of care, more than he had ever done -since that secret of the woods at midnight and the dead man lying stark -with his face upturned to the murky sky had been laid upon him, grew -merry at heart. There was a good deal to make him happy then. Denise -was thoroughly devoted to him, and the sergeant, who was being very -skilfully played by Madame Marcel, became perfectly reconciled to the -match between Toni and Denise. After all, even if Sergeant Duval did -not succeed in marrying Madame Marcel, he reflected that Toni would -not be ill provided for, as Madame Marcel was extremely well off for a -lady of her condition. As a means of advancing Toni's interests, Madame -Marcel was always writing to the sergeant asking him how she should -invest such considerable sums as six hundred francs and once even nine -hundred francs. This last sum was so very imposing that the sergeant, -in giving her his advice, felt compelled to renew his offer of his hand -and heart. To this Madame Marcel returned a most diplomatic reply. -She said if she could see Toni married to Denise she would feel more -like considering the offer. At present it was her only desire to see -that happy event come off. Then, possibly, after providing liberally -for Toni, she might take the sergeant's offer under reflection. The -sergeant, after receiving this letter, thought himself as good as -married to Madame Marcel. - -The autumn and the winter passed as pleasantly as the summer. Paul -and Lucie, after spending the summer at the Château Bernard, had come -into the town and taken the small house in which they played at being -poor. It was as pretty a little bower as any newly-married couple -ever had. They kept only three servants and Toni still waited on Paul -Verney, and there was plenty for him to do. He had no natural love for -work and still reckoned it the height of bliss to lie on his stomach -in the long grass and watch the gnats dancing in the sun and the -foolishly industrious bees, always at work for others, get gloriously -drunk on the clover blossoms. But for a private in the dragoons there -was not much time for this sort of thing, and if Toni had to work he -would rather work for the Verneys than for anybody else. There was -a little garden behind the house in which Toni dug and planted and -watered diligently under Lucie's critical eye, and this was the least -unpleasant work that he had ever done. - -Lucie fathomed his character as well as Paul did. She knew of all -his strange ins and outs, his courage and cowardice, his foolish -loving heart. Denise, by that time, had got the upper hand of Toni as -completely as Paul Verney had got the upper hand of Lucie. Like all -tender-hearted women, Lucie was a natural and incurable match-maker. -Nothing pleased her better than to forward the affair between Toni -and Denise. She stopped Sergeant Duval in the street to praise -Toni's virtues, expatiating upon his industry. The sergeant listened -respectfully enough until Toni's industry was mentioned, when a grim -look came into his eyes. - -"Yes, Madame," he said, "he is the most industrious fellow alive as -long as I am after him and he has the prospect of being put in the -barrack prison on bread and water. Oh, there is nobody who works harder -than Toni." Lucie passed on laughing. - -But there was a reason why Toni was so willing always to dig in the -garden. There was a little sewing-room on the ground floor which had -a window that opened on the garden, and at that window Denise, early -in the winter, was established with her sewing. She was a beautiful -seamstress, and having ten thousand francs to her fortune by no means -lessened her inclination to work for the good wages which Madame Verney -paid her. And there was a great deal of sewing to be done just then -in the little house, so while Toni dug and planted in the garden and -worked among the flowers in the little greenhouse, he could glance -up and see Denise's pretty blond head bending over her fine sewing. -Toni became so devoted to waiting on Lucie that he grew positively -inattentive to Paul, who was compelled to swear at Toni once in a while -and threaten to cuff him to bring him to his senses. - -At New Year's Paul's father and mother and Captain and Madame Ravenel -came to Beaupré for a visit. The little house could not accommodate -more than two persons besides the master and mistress, so Monsieur and -Madame Verney were entertained in great style at the Château Bernard by -Madame Bernard. Toni had never been able to see Madame Ravenel without -being reminded, as Paul had told him in their boyhood, of a soft and -solemn strain of music in a dim cathedral, or of the river taking its -way at twilight softly through the grassy meadow where the violets -grew. She was still sad--she never could be anything but that--but her -beautiful eyes had lost their troubled look and she seemed at peace. -Captain Ravenel was the same quiet, silent, soldierly man as always, -who was never far from Madame Ravenel's side. No woman was ever better -loved and protected than poor Sophie. On this visit, for the first -time, Toni plucked up spirit enough to speak to Madame Ravenel. She -talked with him, in her gentle voice, about Bienville and his life -there, and of Denise, and how she had been amused at watching them -when they were little children together. Toni told Madame Ravenel how -he dodged furtively around the corner of the acacia tree and climbed -upon the garden wall to see her pass to and from church. Madame Ravenel -went to church as much as ever, but now she went a little way within -the church, though never close up to the altar, and Captain Ravenel -maintained his old practice of escorting her to church and walking up -and down in the street smoking his cigar until she came out, when he -escorted her home again, and never let her be one waking moment without -his protection. - -Since Lucie had come into her American fortune the Ravenels no -longer found it necessary to practise that stern economy which had -characterized the first years of their married life. Lucie made Sophie -accept an allowance, small indeed compared with the fortune which -Delorme had squandered, but it was enough to lift the Ravenels above -poverty. The week that the Ravenels and the Verneys were at Beaupré was -a time of quiet happiness to everybody in the modest house in which -Lucie played at being poor. Madame Bernard had, of course, declared at -first that she could only see Sophie and Ravenel surreptitiously, as -it were, but ended, as she invariably did, by driving up in her great -coach and absolutely taking Sophie to drive in the face of all Beaupré. -This was Lucie's doing, unaided by either of the persons concerned, by -Paul, or by Captain Ravenel, but Lucie was accustomed to triumphs of -this sort and knew perfectly well how to achieve them. - -One morning, a year after Paul's marriage, when Toni went to him at -seven o'clock in the morning, he found Paul already up and dressed and -walking in the garden, and he shouted, as Toni came in: - -"It's a boy, Toni." - -And that very day Toni was taken up stairs into a darkened room where, -in a lace and silk covered bassinet lay the little Paul, who seemed to -Toni at once grotesque and sacred, as indeed it seemed to Paul himself. -The baby waxed and thrived, and, after a while, when Lucie and Paul -again had their breakfast in the garden, as they had done in their -early married life, the baby was brought out and lay in his nurse's -arms blinking solemnly at the great wide world before him. Paul Verney -was a devoted father, and as he had talked intimately with Toni all his -life, so he talked with him about this child so longed for and so loved. - -"It seems to me, Toni," said Paul, one morning after breakfast in the -garden, when Lucie and the baby had gone within for their noonday rest, -and Paul was looking over some papers which Toni had brought him, "it -seems to me, Toni, as if I am too happy. It makes me afraid." - -A look of fear came into Toni's eyes. - -"I feel the same way," he whispered, "everything seems to be too -easy--too bright. Now, if the sergeant had kept on opposing me or if -Mademoiselle Duval were against me--but I do assure you, Paul, they -are both as sweet as milk. I don't know how long it will last, but if -it lasts until I marry Denise that will be long enough. My mother -has just sold a little piece of ground she had, on the outskirts of -Bienville, and has got a thumping price for it. I think the sergeant is -more in love with her than ever, since she sold the ground for such a -price." - -"Well, Toni," answered Paul gaily, "we don't deserve our -happiness--that much is certain. I am no more fit for Lucie than you -are fit for Denise--she's a thousand times too good for you and always -will be--but we can enjoy our happiness just the same." - -Another year passed, and Toni had come to believe that this earth -was Heaven and would have been most unwilling to leave it for the -brightest prospects above. Denise was then very busy sewing at her -wedding trousseau, and Toni would be Paul's servant only a little while -longer. A corporal was Toni to become--an honor that Toni had no more -dreamed of than of succeeding President Loubet. This honor was equally -astonishing to Sergeant Duval. But all the same Toni was to be promoted -and was not to ride in the ranks any longer. This distinction he had -not coveted, as it implied a great deal more work even than he had to -do as a private soldier. - -But one must accept honors even when thrust upon one. It made the -prospect of the riding-school seem less attractive to Toni. He not only -began to feel that the separation from Paul would be harder than ever, -but from Lucie also, and the little baby Paul. In some unaccountable -way this little morsel of humanity had stolen his way into Toni's -heart, so much so, that when the baby preferred to play with Jacques in -preference to all the expensive toys which were lavished on him, Toni -actually tied Jacques around the baby's neck and made a solemn gift -of it to him. It seemed almost incredible to Toni that he could give -Jacques away, but it was to him very like the bestowal of a splendid -heirloom on a child who is to carry on the traditions of a great family. - -As for the sergeant, ever since Madame Marcel had sold her piece of -ground, he had treated Toni as a son. When Toni was made a corporal, -he could command his own time much more than when he had been a -private soldier, but Denise, like most brides, was so taken up with -the important matter of the trousseau that she had very little time -to bestow on Toni. Toni, never having questioned her authority in his -life, quietly submitted to this. - -[Illustration: "A corporal was Toni to become."] - -At last the great day drew near--it was only a week off--the day of -Toni's marriage. Toni expected to be frightened to death, but Paul -warned him that if he showed the white feather he should have the -long-promised cuffing as soon as he returned from his wedding tour. The -sergeant also suspected Toni's courage and kept a stern eye on him in -the last day or so before the wedding, but Toni maintained his courage -and declared the only thing he dreaded was the march up the aisle of -the church and back again, in which apprehension he did not stand alone -among bridegrooms. Although it was only the wedding of a corporal and -the sergeant's daughter, it was to be quite a grand affair, chiefly -through the exertions of Lucie, who dearly loved to make a gala out of -everything and particularly out of Toni's and Denise's marriage. She -had bestowed presents on them with a lavish hand and Paul, out of his -small pay and allowance, had given Toni a handsome gold watch. - -The great question of the honeymoon and where it was to be spent came -up. Being a corporal, Toni could get a short leave--how much he did not -know. - -The next day Toni laid his case before Paul when he and Lucie were -at breakfast in the garden. The boy could now toddle about, his dark, -bright eyes like his mother's. He was fonder than ever of Toni and -liked to be carried on his strong arm. Toni was holding the baby thus -and he was clutching Jacques devotedly in his little hand. Lucie -suggested a whole week, but Paul shook his head at the mention of a -week's leave for a corporal. - -"It would be very unusual," he said. - -Lucie said nothing at all, but when Paul had gone off, went up, and, -taking the baby out of Toni's arms and laying her soft cheek against -little Paul's rose-leaf face, said to Toni: - -"I think I can manage it." - -And she did, in a manner precisely like Lucie. She dressed herself in -her prettiest gown and hat, took her white lace parasol and, getting -into a carriage, went in search of the colonel of the regiment. When -she found him she poured out the story of Toni and Denise and all about -Bienville, including her childish love affair with Paul. And then she -went on and recounted with such inimitable drollery her efforts to -wring an offer out of Paul, his horror at her American ways of doing -things, and the perplexity which a Frenchman always experiences in his -love-affairs with an American, that the colonel burst out laughing and -agreed to do anything Lucie should ask, and what she asked was one -whole week of leave for Toni's honeymoon. The colonel also promised to -protect Lucie from Paul's wrath when he should hear how Toni's leave -had been obtained. This was needed, for Paul scowled and growled that -women should not meddle with such things, to which Lucie promptly -agreed, except when it should be some affair in which, like this, a -woman was deeply interested. - -Mademoiselle Duval hankered very much to go on the honeymoon with -Toni and Denise, but having heard that Paris was a very sinful place -she doubted the wisdom of trusting herself there even for a visit. -Toni contrived to make her understand that Paris was a great deal -more sinful even than she suspected it to be, that there were few -churches and the means of salvation were limited, and finally convinced -Mademoiselle Duval that she would risk her soul's salvation by -venturing in that wicked town. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Toni and Denise had selected for their wedding day the anniversary -of the marriage of Paul and Lucie two years before. The wedding was -as fine as Lucie could make it, and she had great capabilities in -that line. The garrison chapel was decked with flowers, the organ -played, and it was much more like the wedding of a lieutenant than a -corporal--Lucie paying for it all. Madame Marcel came from Bienville to -the wedding and was resplendent in a purple silk gown, a lace collar -and a bonnet with an aigrette in it. She looked so young and handsome -that, together with the sale of her piece of land, she wholly dazzled -the sergeant, who speculated on his chances of leading her to the altar -sometime within a year. - -Mademoiselle Duval treated herself to a new black gown and a very -forbidding-looking black bonnet, but really presented an elegant though -austere appearance. Denise's white wedding gown was made with her own -fingers, and, although it was only a simple muslin, never was there a -daintier looking bride in the world than the sergeant's daughter. - -In the first row of seats in the church sat Paul and Lucie, the latter -charmingly dressed in honor of the occasion. The chapel was filled with -humbler people, friends of the bride and bridegroom. The bride, with -her father, the sergeant, arrived in great state in Lucie's victoria -and pair and the same equipage--the handsomest in Beaupré--carried -the newly-married pair back to the large room in one of the plain but -comfortable hotels of the place, where a wedding breakfast was served. - -Toni was not at all frightened at the imminent circumstances of the -day. On the contrary, he felt a sense of protection in marrying Denise. -She would always be at hand to take care of him, for Toni felt the need -of being taken care of just as much, in spite of his five feet ten, -and his one hundred and fifty pounds weight, and his being the crack -rider in the regiment, as he had done in the old days at Bienville -when he ran away from the little Clery boys. He did not, therefore, -experience the usual panic which often attacks the stoutest-hearted -bridegroom, and went through the wedding breakfast with actual courage. -He absolutely forgot everything painful in his past life. Nicolas and -Pierre melted away--he did not feel as if they had ever existed. The -secret which had haunted him was a mere fantasy, that vanished in the -glow of his wedding morning. - -Paul and Lucie came in during the breakfast and Paul proposed the -bridegroom's health with his hand on Toni's shoulder, Toni grinning in -ecstasy meanwhile. Paul spoke of their early intimacy, and Toni made -a very appropriate reply--at least Denise and Madame Marcel thought -so. After the lieutenant and his wife had left, the fun grew fast and -furious. It was as merry a wedding breakfast as Paul's and Lucie's, -even though the guests were such simple people as would come to the -corporal's wedding with the sergeant's daughter. Toni could have said -with truth that it was the happiest day of his life. - -When the wedding party dispersed, and they returned to the Duvals' -lodgings that the bride might change her dress, the sergeant, being -left alone in the little sitting-room with Madame Marcel, grew -positively tender, saying to her in the manner which he had found -perfectly killing with the girls twenty-five years before: - -"Now, Madame, that we have seen our children happily married we should -think somewhat of our own future. The same joy which those two children -have may be ours." - -Madame Marcel, who had heretofore received all the sergeant's gallant -speeches with an air of blushing consciousness, suddenly burst out -laughing in a very self-possessed manner, and said: - -"Oh, we are much too old, Monsieur; we should be quite ridiculous if -either one of us thought of marrying." - -The sergeant received a shock at this, particularly as he considered -himself still young and handsome. - -"My dear Madame Marcel," he replied impressively, "certainly age has -not touched you and I flatter myself"--here he drew himself up and -twirled the ends of his superbly-waxed mustaches--"that so far time has -not laid his hand heavily on me." - -"If you wish to marry, Monsieur," replied Madame Marcel, still -laughing, "you ought to marry some young girl. Men of your age always -like girls young enough to be their daughters," and she laughed again -quite impertinently. - -The sergeant frowned at Madame Marcel. He had never seen this phase of -her character before. - -"I assure you, Madame," he said stiffly, "that if I care to aspire to -the hand of a young woman of my daughter's age, I might not be really -considered too old; but I prefer a maturer person like yourself." - -Madame Marcel, seeing that the sergeant was becoming deeply chagrined, -determined not to dash his hopes too suddenly, so she reassumed her old -manner of girlish embarrassment and said: - -"Well, Monsieur, one wedding makes many, you know; but a wedding is a -fatiguing business to go through with, particularly at our age. It will -take us both, at our time of life, several weeks to recover from this -delightful event and we may then discuss the project you mention." - -This was slightly encouraging, and as the sergeant had nothing better -to comfort himself with he contrived to extract some satisfaction from -it. - -When Denise appeared, dressed in her neat gray traveling gown, the -Verneys' handsome victoria was at the door to take her and Toni to -the station. Toni and Denise felt very grand, as well as very happy, -sitting up in the fine victoria with the pair of prancing bays, -and although they were conscious that the footman and coachman were -thrusting their tongues into their cheeks, it mattered very little to -Denise and Toni, whose black eyes were lustrous with delight. At last, -he reflected joyously, he had some one who would be obliged to look -after him the rest of his life. - -When they reached the station the train was almost ready to depart. -Toni had wished, on this auspicious day, to travel to Paris -second-class, but the prudent Denise concluded that as they would go -through life third-class they had better begin on that basis. So Toni -selected a third-class carriage which was vacant and, tipping half a -franc to the guard, he and Denise found themselves in it without other -company. It was their first moment alone since they had been made one. -Toni put his arm around Denise and drew her head on his shoulder with -the strangest feeling in his heart of being protected, and Denise, -for her part, had the sense of having adopted this fine, handsome, -laughing fellow, to shield under her wing the rest of her life. Yet -they were lovers deep and sincere. No French gentleman had ever treated -his fiancée with greater respect than Toni, the corporal, had treated -Denise, or ever had a higher rapture in their first long kiss. - -He was roused from his dream in Paradise by the consciousness of a -sinister presence near him, and his eyes fell on the red head of -Nicolas peering like the serpent in the Garden of Eden in at the window -of the railway carriage. If the place of eternal torment had yawned -before Toni's eyes he could not have felt a greater horror. And this -was increased when Nicolas coolly opened the door of the carriage and -got in, followed by Pierre, and the two seated themselves directly -opposite the newly-married pair. Almost immediately the train moved -off. Toni had only one thought in his mind--to keep Denise from finding -out that terrible secret of his--why he hated and feared these men. He -hated and feared them now more than ever, but some new courage seemed -to be born in him. The cardinal difference between a brave man and a -coward is that a brave man can think when he is afraid and can even act -sensibly, and a coward can not do either. Always before this when he -had been frightened, Toni had acted like a fool, but now he acted as -sensibly as Paul Verney himself could, and for once behaved bravely, -although he was contending with men instead of horses. The two -rogues opposite him leered at Denise, nudged each other, and Pierre -held out his hand to Toni. - -[Illustration: "Seated themselves directly opposite the newly married -pair."] - -"How do you do, comrade?" he said. - -For answer, Toni folded his arms and looked at the extended paw with -disgust. - -"No, I thank you," he replied, in a voice as steady as if he were -managing a vicious brute of a horse. "Denise, don't look at them, my -dear," and he motioned her to sit with him in the furthest corner of -the carriage. - -Denise surmised who these two individuals were, but said nothing, -only averting her eyes from them. Nicolas then persisted in trying to -converse. - -"We are back from Algiers," he remarked impressively. - -"It doesn't require a genius to know that," Toni answered tartly. "It's -a great pity you were not kept there for ever." - -He felt astonished at his own boldness in saying this, and the devil -of fear, taking on a new guise, made him afraid of his own boldness. -But, at all events, he felt that there was no danger of his betraying -himself then before Denise. Nicolas and Pierre continued to wink and -make remarks, evidently directed at Denise. Toni stood it quietly, but -the first time the guard passed he spoke to him. - -"These two fellows," he said, "are impertinent to my wife. At the first -station I would thank you to put them in another carriage." - -The guard had seen the fine style in which Toni had driven to the -station with his bride, and also respected Toni's smart corporal's -uniform, so he bowed politely and said, "Certainly," and the next -station being reached in two minutes, Toni had the satisfaction of -seeing his two friends unceremoniously hauled out and thrust into -another carriage which was before nearly full. As they went out Pierre -laughed--a laugh terrible in Toni's ears. - -"You haven't been very polite to us," he said, "but we shall meet -again. Remember I promised you that when we parted two years ago, and -we never go back on what we say." - -This troubled Denise and when they were alone Toni told her as much as -he thought well for her to know of Nicolas and Pierre, but it was not -enough to disturb her very much on her wedding journey. Toni, however, -again felt that old fear clutching and tearing him. His courage had -been merely outward, and outward it continued. He was apparently the -most smiling and cheerful bridegroom in the whole city of Paris, but no -man ever carried on his heart a heavier load of anxiety and oppression. - -Madame Marcel had given Toni a little sum of money which was quite -beyond his corporal's pay for his wedding tour, and they had taken a -little lodging in the humbler quarters of Paris, and here they were -to spend the precious week of their honeymoon. It was still bright -daylight at seven on a June evening when they reached their lodgings -and removed the stains of travel. Toni, in the gayest manner possible, -proposed that they should take a stroll on the river bank before going -to their supper. It was a heavenly evening and a gorgeous sunset was -mirrored in the dancing river as Toni and Denise leaned over the -parapet of the bridge of the Invalides, holding each other's hands -as they had done when they were little children sitting on the bench -under the acacia tree at Bienville. Toni could have groaned aloud in -his agony. He would be the happiest creature on earth if only those -two wretches had not appeared. He was happy in spite of them, but then -the terrible thought came to him that they had promised to kill him -and Paul Verney, too, and they were of a class of men who usually keep -their word when they promise villainy. He felt an acute pang of sorrow -for Denise and an acute pang for himself and for Paul and Lucie--so -young they all were, so happy, and that happiness threatened by a -couple of wretches who would think no more of taking a man's life than -of killing a rat, if they had the opportunity. - -He looked at the crowds of gaily-dressed people which filled the -streets with life. He looked at Denise in the charming freshness of her -youth, her tender eyes repeating with every glance that she loved Toni -better than anybody else in the world. He considered all the splendor -and beauty around him--the dancing river and the great arched, dark -blue sky above them in which the palpitating stars were shining faintly -and a silver moon trembled--and he could scarcely keep from groaning -aloud at the thought of being torn from all he loved. But he gave no -outward sign of it. Denise thought him as happy as she was. - -After their supper at a gay café they came across one of those open-air -balls which are a feature of Paris, and they danced together merrily -for an hour. Everybody saw they were sweethearts and some jokes were -made at their expense, which Toni did not mind in the least and would -have enjoyed hugely, but--but-- Afterward they walked home under the -quiet night sky. In place of their gaiety and laughter a deep and -solemn happiness possessed Toni as well as Denise, except for this -terrible fear, black and threatening, which would not be thrust out of -his happiest hours. - -Paris in June for a pair of lovers on a honeymoon trip, with enough -money to meet their modest wants, is an earthly Paradise. Denise loved -to exhibit her muslin gowns, made with her own hands, by the side of -her handsome corporal, in the cheap cafés and theaters which they -patronized. They found acquaintances, as everybody does in Paris. -The lodging-house keeper became their friend and invited them to her -daughter's birthday fête. They went out to Versailles on Sunday and saw -the fountains plashing, studied the windows of the magnificent shops in -the grand avenues, and were perfectly happy, except for the black care -that sat upon Toni's heart. Life could be so delightful, thought Toni, -but his would end so soon. Toni almost felt the knife that Nicolas -would stick into him. He pondered over the various ways in which he -might be killed--a blow like that which felled Count Delorme might -do for him. He imagined himself found dead in the streets of Beaupré -some dark night, and the story of how he came by his death would never -be known. And he thought of Paul--that his body might be found in a -thicket of the park of the Château Bernard, just as Count Delorme's had -been. Toni was an imaginative person and the horror of his situation -was enhanced by the Paradise of the present. He wondered sometimes how -he managed to keep it all from Denise, but he did for once. - -Too soon the time came when he had to return to Beaupré. It was on -a wet and gloomy day that he and Denise alighted from a third-class -carriage at the little station. They walked straight to their modest -lodgings, and then Toni went to seek Paul. His leave was not up by -several hours, so he need not report at once. He found Paul at the -headquarters building in a little room where he worked alone. When Toni -came in and shut the door carefully behind him, Paul whirled around in -his chair expecting to see a radiant, rapturous Toni. Instead of that, -Toni dropped the mask which he had worn before Denise and looked at -Paul with a pair of eyes so distressed, so haunted, so anxious, that -Paul knew in a moment something had happened. - -"Well, Toni," he began, and then asked, "What is the matter?" - -Toni, instead of standing at attention, leaned heavily against the -desk--his legs could hardly support him. - -"The day I was married," he said, "when Denise and I got in the railway -carriage to go to Paris, Nicolas and Pierre got in, too." - -Paul's ruddy, frank and smiling face grew pale as Toni said these -words. They might mean for him, as well as for Toni, a decree of doom, -and, like Toni, he was so happy that the thought he should be torn away -from it all seemed the more cruel. - -"And what did they say and do?" he inquired after a painful pause. - -"They were very insulting at first to Denise, but I told her not to -notice them, and they wanted to shake hands with me, but I refused." - -"Did you?" cried Paul, in amazement. "Is it possible that you didn't -act like a poltroon and shake hands with them and do whatever they -asked you to do?" - -This was no sarcasm on Paul's part, but a plain expression of what -he expected Toni would do, and Toni was not at all offended at this -imputation on his courage and good sense. - -"Yes," he said, "I acted the man with them. I never did it before, but -I did more than that--I called the guard, who made them go into another -carriage." - -Paul gazed at Toni with wide-eyed surprise. Here was the most -astonishing thing that ever happened--Toni actually showing a little -courage with these men. - -"I can hardly believe it is you, Toni, standing before me. If you had -shown the same spirit all the time, you would not now live in dread -about that Delorme affair." - -"Perhaps not," sighed poor Toni, "but you know how I always was, Paul." - -"I think you are going to be something different now," replied Paul -cheerfully. It was not pleasant--the thought that these two rascals, -who had promised to kill him as well as Toni, were alive and in Paris, -but Paul's nerves were perfect and he easily recovered his balance. - -"But the thought of it--the thought of it!" cried Toni, opening his -arms and standing up straight. "The knife entering my breast or that -blow on the side of the head such as they gave Count Delorme. I feel -them and see them everywhere I look. If I see a man walking on the -street he seems to take the shape of Nicolas or Pierre. Every time I -turn a corner I expect to see them. And there is Denise--and then I -think of you being found some night or some day, dead--will it be in -the morning or in the evening--will it be in the summer time or in -the autumn?--and Madame and the little one--" Falling into a chair, -Toni broke down and cried and sobbed bitterly. Paul put his arm around -Toni's neck. Their two heads were close together just as they had been -in the old days on the bridge at Bienville. He said no word to Toni, -but the touch of his arm was strength and comfort, and presently Toni -stopped crying and grew calm again. - -"Never mind, Toni," said Paul, "I think we can take care of ourselves. -We must go armed. It would not do any good if you were to inform on -those two rascals. Of course they would deny it--you can't punish a man -for crime he hasn't committed. We shall have to take our chances--that -is all. But if one of us is killed, the other one will be safe, -because then your story will be believed." - -That was not much comfort to Toni, who replied: - -"If you are killed, what will life be to me? and if I am killed think -of Denise, and you." - -They sat a little while longer talking, Paul encouraging Toni and at -last raising in him some of the spirit which had made him have Nicolas -and Pierre turned out of the railway carriage. Paul said that they were -comparatively safe at Beaupré where Nicolas and Pierre would not dare -to come, but Toni did not take this view. He thought that men who had -committed one murder and had contemplated another for two years would -not hesitate to come to Beaupré in order to fulfil their purpose. The -effort to keep his agony from being suspected by Denise was, however, -perfectly successful. Denise suspected nothing, nor did the sergeant -nor anybody, except Paul Verney. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -Baby Paul's birthday was celebrated a few days after Toni and Denise -returned, and there was a little fête, to which they were invited. It -was given on the terrace of the Château Bernard where Paul and Lucie's -wedding breakfast had been served. The baby, a beautiful child toddling -about, clung to Jacques, which hung around his neck by a little gold -chain, with as much tenacity as Toni had clasped that gallant soldier -for so many years of his boyhood. Also the little boy clung to Toni -and, refusing to go to his nurse, insisted on being carried in Toni's -arms the whole afternoon. This pleased Toni immensely and amused -everybody present. Lucie looked charming as ever, and thanked Toni for -playing nurse-maid. The child's beauty, and the delight of the young -father and mother in him, almost broke Toni's heart. In a little while -the boy might be fatherless, and that gay and graceful Lucie might be -widowed. He was still haunted by that vision of the face of Nicolas, -whom he reckoned, if there be such a thing as a gradation in villainy, -to be a worse villain than Pierre; that is to say, a more dangerous -one. He glanced around him fearfully, expecting to see one or the other -of them. At last, while walking about the grounds below the terrace, -still carrying the little Paul in his short fluffy white dress, there -was something like a horrible passing vision of Nicolas' red head -behind the hedge that divided the gardens from the park. - -At that moment Lucie, followed by the nurse, appeared, tripping through -the grass. Her pretty black head was bare and she held up her dainty -chiffon skirts, showing beautiful black satin shoes with shining -buckles on them. - -"I came to look for you, Toni," she cried, "you must enjoy yourself -this afternoon and not be troubled with little Paul all the time. He -must be made to go to his nurse and behave himself." - -"It is no trouble, Madame," said Toni from the very bottom of his -heart; "I love to have the little fellow in my arms and he is so quiet -and good when he is with me." - -"Come, dearest," said Lucie to the baby, "nurse will take you"--at -which little Paul was neither good nor quiet, but kicked and screamed -and would have nothing to say to the nurse, much to the indignation of -the latter, who accused Toni of spoiling the child outrageously. - -Glancing around at that moment, Toni distinctly saw Nicolas' head -behind the hedge. Not only he saw it, but Lucie as well. She walked -toward the opening through which the path ran, and, as she saw Nicolas, -very dusty and travel-stained, her generous heart went out in pity to -him. She was always taking in stray cats and dogs, and stray human -beings as well, and giving them a dinner and a franc, and on this day -above all others no one near her should want for anything. She went up -to Nicolas and asked pleasantly: - -"Whom are you looking for, my man?" - -Nicolas, in no wise taken aback, replied politely: - -"For an old comrade of mine--Toni by name." - -He did not recognize Lucie, but seeing something in her manner of -address which indicated that he might get money out of her, he whined: - -"I have been serving my time in Africa and got back to France very -poor, and I have hardly had a good meal since I came." - -"You shall not say that," cried Lucie. "No person, and certainly -no one who has been a soldier, shall want for a meal where we are. -Come." She turned and walked toward the château, the nurse, meanwhile, -wrestling vigorously with the baby, whom Toni secretly encouraged in -his rebellion. - -Nicolas followed Lucie and was delighted at his own diplomacy. He -reckoned her good for a couple of francs at least. She showed him a -side entrance where, in a small and shady courtyard, the servants were -drinking little Paul's health and cutting a birthday cake expressly -designed for them. Nicolas went in and not only ate and drank in honor -of the little child whose father he meant to murder, but was provided -with a good meal by Lucie's orders. After he had eaten and drunk, he -desired to slink away, not thinking it worth while to risk meeting Paul -even in the pursuit of the couple of francs which he felt sure he could -get out of Lucie. As he slouched rapidly across the lawn, he looked -up and saw, on the terrace, Paul and Lucie standing together. All the -guests had left and Madame Bernard had gone indoors, but Toni, meaning -to give Paul a word of warning, remained a little while with Denise -waiting for his chance to speak. But his warning was not necessary. As -Lucie saw Nicolas' shabby figure slinking across the lawn, she said to -Paul: - -"There is a man that I found outside the hedge and he has been a -soldier, so I made him come in and he drank the baby's health with the -servants, and I made them give him a good meal besides." - -A glance of recognition, which neither Lucie nor Denise saw, passed -between Paul and Toni. Paul only remarked to her: - -"You should be a little careful, Lucie, in introducing strange men -among the servants, even though they claim to be soldiers. However, no -harm is done this time." - -"But he said he was hungry, Paul, and I can not bear that any one at -the Château Bernard or at our house should want, for anything on this -delightful day--the baby's first birthday." - -As Lucie spoke, her eyes sparkled and she laid her hand on Paul's -shoulder. Their honeymoon had, as yet, no break. - -Toni then turned to go with Denise. - -He maintained his outward calm, though inwardly he was storm-tossed. He -knew that Paul Verney suffered none of these qualms of terror, but was -perfectly cool, calm and self-possessed. - -"Oh, what a thing is courage," thought Toni, "to be a brave man all -around." - -But he was learning to master his fear a little, or at least to -control the outward expression of it. He and Denise walked briskly -through the park. Denise, it being still their honeymoon, would have -liked to loiter a little in the twilight shadows, but Toni making the -excuse that he would soon be due at the barracks, they lost no time. -He took Denise's hand in his. She thought it was a lover's clasp, but -in truth he felt that old clinging to Denise for protection as well -as affection. He wished that he could have put his hand in his pocket -and felt Jacques, but Jacques was now the treasured possession of the -little Paul. Toni was glad when he got out of the park and into the -lighted streets. - -He had to go to the barracks and Denise was to return to their -lodgings. They parted under a dark archway and had the opportunity to -exchange a farewell kiss. Toni wondered if it would be the last kiss he -would ever give Denise. For the first time, Denise, looking into Toni's -troubled eyes, began to suspect something was wrong with him, but she -said no word and went quietly home. - -It was then nearly eight o'clock and Toni was kept busy at the barracks -for an hour more. He was off duty that night and was allowed to spend -it at home, and at ten o'clock he left the big barrack yard to go to -his lodgings. The afternoon and early evening had been brilliantly -lovely, but now a cold rain was fitfully falling and the night sky -was dark with storm-clouds which raced across the face of the moon. -The streets of the little town grew deserted, and Toni, as he walked -rapidly along, saw Nicolas and Pierre, in imagination, behind every -wall and tree and corner. There was a short way to his lodgings, which -led through the narrow and dark streets, but the long way led by the -railway station where there were always people moving about and a -plenty of light, and Toni concluded to take the long way home. He ran -nearly all the way, longing to get to the circle of light made by the -railway station. There was one place where he had to cross a bridge -which spanned the iron tracks, and it was quite dark. Toni felt his -heart thumping and jumping as he neared this place. Once across it, -he would feel comparatively safe, and would walk along quietly in the -glare of the electric lamps. - -As he got to this place he heard a smothered cry, and, frightened as -he was, he stopped and peered over the rail of the bridge. Near the -track two figures were wrestling desperately. In the half-darkness, -Toni could see that each one was trying to throw the other on the -railway track. Far-off sounded the roar and reverberation, the thunder -and shaking of the earth, of the fast-approaching express train. Toni -was thrilled with horror and frozen to the ground. He could not have -moved to have saved his life. In fact, there was no way for him to -reach the two men struggling to destroy each other, except by leaping -over the bridge twenty feet below. The huge headlight of the onrushing -train cast a ghastly glare over the black earth, intersected by -lines of steel, and revealed to Toni that the two figures in mortal -struggle were Nicolas and Pierre. Nicolas was the stronger of the two, -and he was trying to throw Pierre under the wheels of the advancing -locomotive, but Pierre hung on with unnatural strength. He could not -drag himself away from the track, but he clung fiercely and desperately -to Nicolas. In an instant more the train thundered upon the two men -and wild shrieks cut the air above the roar. The locomotive gave a -sudden jar, and then plunged ahead and came to a stop. Toni, holding on -with both hands to the parapet of the bridge, could have cried aloud in -fear and horror of what was passing before him. A dozen figures of men -with flashing lanterns appeared at once, and by the side of the track -they picked up Pierre and Nicolas where they had been pitched. Both of -them were quite dead. - -[Illustration: "He stopped and peered over the rail of the bridge."] - -All of Toni's faculties had seemed numbed while he had watched this -tragedy of less than five minutes' duration, but in the space of a -second the instinct of flight developed in him, and he turned around -and ran, retracing his path, as if a thousand devils were after him. -His heart was thumping still more wildly than when he had followed the -same road a little while before, but now it was for joy. Toni was a -primitive creature and was not troubled by any scruples in rejoicing -at the death of his fellow man, when that fellow man had worried and -troubled him as Pierre and Nicolas had done. He kept on thanking God in -his heart, and even whispering his thanks as he ran. - -He took the short way back to his lodgings. In the same street, only -a few doors off, was a small church. The lights in most of the houses -were out. All was quiet--the church and houses, as well as the people, -seemed asleep. Toni's pious instincts rose up and possessed him. He -must go into that church and thank God for himself, for Denise, for -Paul and for Lucie. He crept up the steps and quietly tried the door, -but it was locked. Toni had a jack-knife in his pocket, and the lock -on the church door not being worth much, he deliberately pried it -open, and stepped softly into the church. It was dark and damp, and -the flagstones were very cold, but far-off before the little altar the -sanctuary lamp glowed brightly. A sudden remembrance overcame Toni of -Madame Ravenel not daring to go far in the church, and he honestly -reckoned himself a much worse person than Madame Ravenel, so he fell -down on the cold stones of the aisle, just within the door, not on -his knees, but on his face, and thanked God and all the saints that -Pierre and Nicolas were dead. He recalled with an agony of remorse -that when he was a boy he used to run away on Sundays instead of going -to church, and felt himself the chief of sinners because he had not -listened with the strictest attention and the deepest satisfaction to -long-winded sermons. He began to sob and pray aloud in his ecstasy of -gratitude, and promised more things to the Most High than the greatest -saint that ever lived could have performed. He repeated every prayer -he knew, but as his repertory was not extensive, he had to say them -over again many times. The stones were hard and cold as most stones -are, but Toni thought them a bed of roses. He did not know how long -he had lain there, but presently sheer fatigue brought him to his -senses. It occurred to him that Denise might be anxious about him, -but he was in that exaltation of piety which made him rather exult in -being uncomfortable himself and making Denise uncomfortable, too--a not -uncommon condition in natures like Toni's. He had been there more than -an hour when he heard a light step behind him and turned. There was -Denise with her hat and jacket on. She tiptoed up to him and whispered -in his ear: - -"I went out in the street to look for you, Toni, and I saw the church -door open and you lying here. What are you doing?" - -"Thanking God!" responded Toni out loud. "Down on your knees, Denise." - -Denise, very much astounded at this newly-developed piety of Toni's, -did as she was bid, having been piously brought up. At the end of a -few minutes she rose, but Toni was obstinate. He wanted to stay in -the church all night on his knees. Denise, determined to find out what -ailed him, spoke to him with that tone of gentle authority which he had -never resisted since they were little children together, walking hand -in hand at Bienville. She dragged Toni out of the church, stumbling -along in the darkness, and he shut the door carefully. They were only -a step or two from their lodgings, and climbing up to their two little -rooms, Toni took Denise in his arms and poured out the whole story -of Nicolas and Pierre, sobbing between times, and laughing, like one -possessed. Denise wept--she saw nothing to laugh at--and actually -expressed some pity for the two lost souls of Nicolas and Pierre. This -seemed really impious to Toni. - -The recital did not take long, and then Toni, taking his cap, said: - -"I must run now, as fast as I can, to the Château Bernard. Monsieur -Paul must know this." - -Denise did not detain him and he ran softly down stairs and took his -way through the dark streets and along the deserted highway until he -reached the park of the Château Bernard. He climbed the wall and walked -swiftly through the park until he got to the château, standing white -and stately upon its broad terraces. It was then quite one o'clock in -the morning. The sky had cleared and a great hobgoblin moon was looking -down on the church steeples of the town, visible afar off. Toni knew -the window of Paul's room. It was on the first floor above the ground -floor, and at a corner. He knew the only way to awaken Paul, without -alarming the house, was to throw pebbles at his window, but there were -no pebbles to be found. He remembered, however, that Paul was a light -sleeper, and going under the window Toni called out softly a dozen -times--"Paul--Paul--Monsieur." Presently the window of the room came -open, and he heard Paul's voice asking softly: - -"Who is that?" - -"It is I," whispered Toni, creeping under the window. "Come down." - -In a few moments a small door under the window opened noiselessly, and -Paul came out in his trousers and shirt. Toni caught him around the -neck and whispered in his ear: - -"They are dead, Paul, both of them. They were fighting on the railway -track when the Paris train came along. I saw them both quite dead." - -Paul knew at once whom Toni meant. A great wave of gratitude welled up -in his heart. He did not, like Toni, drop on his face and weep and fall -into a paroxysm of piety, but he felt his release from the sentence of -death pronounced against them both, as much as Toni did. - -"Then we are saved, Toni, from that knife-thrust in the heart or that -blow on the side of the head," said Paul quietly. "Thank God!" - -"I have told Denise," whispered Toni, "now you go, Paul, and tell -Madame." - -Just then a light shone in Lucie's window. She passed into Paul's room, -and going to the open window, her white figure leaned out. - -"I am coming in now, dearest," called Paul softly, stepping under the -window. "I have good news." - -In a little while Toni was plodding back through the park. He meant to -be a model husband, the best father that ever lived, if God should give -him children, the most worthy, blameless corporal in the French army. -He meant to give all his substance to the poor, including Denise's -dowry, to go to church twice a day on week-days and three times on -Sundays, and to lead a life which would be a perfect combination of -the contemplative and the actively charitable. All of the time that he -could spare from his military duties, he meant to give to prayer, and -to make Denise pray with him. He intended to fast and to make Denise -fast, too. Not St. Elizabeth, queen of Hungary, married to St. Louis, -king of France, could have led the life which Toni, in these first -moments, promised that he and Denise should lead. Never was there on -earth so good a man as Toni meant to be thereafter. - - - THE END - - - - -A MASTERPIECE OF FICTION. - - -The Guarded Flame. - -By W. B. MAXWELL, Author of "Vivien." Cloth, $1.50. - - "'The Guarded Flame', by W. B. Maxwell, is a book to challenge the - attention of the reading public as a remarkable study of moral law - and its infraction. Mr. Maxwell is the son of Miss M. E. Braddon - (Mrs. John Maxwell), whose novels were famous a generation ago, and - his first book 'Vivien' made the English critics herald him as a new - force in the world of letters. 'The Guarded Flame' is an even more - astonishing production, a big book that takes rank with the most - important fiction of the year. It is not a book for those who read to - be amused or to be entertained. It touches the deepest issues of life - and death."--_Albany Argus._ - - "The most powerfully written book of the year."--_The Independent._ - - "'The Guarded Flame' is receiving high praise from the critics - everywhere."--_Chicago Record-Herald._ - - "This is a book which cannot fail to make its mark."--_Detroit News._ - - "Great novels are few and the appearance of one at any period must - give the early reviewer a thrill of discovery. Such a one has come - unheralded; but from a source whence it might have been confidently - expected. The author is W. B. Maxwell, son of the voluminous novelist - known to the world as Miss Braddon. His novel is entitled 'The Guarded - Flame.'"--_Philadelphia Press._ - - "The books of W. B. Maxwell are essentially for thinkers."--_St. Louis - Post-Dispatch._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - -A ROMANCE OF THE CIVIL WAR. - - -The Victory. - -By MOLLY ELLIOTT SEAWELL, author of "The Château of Montplaisir," "The -Sprightly Romance of Marsac," etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. - - "With so delicate a touch and appreciation of the detail of domestic - and plantation life, with so wise comprehension of the exalted - and sometimes stilted notions of Southern honor and with humorous - depiction of African fidelity and bombast to interest and amuse - him, it only gradually dawns on a reader that 'The Victory' is the - truest and most tragic presentation yet before us of the rending - of home ties, the awful passions, the wounded affections personal - and national, and the overwhelming questions of honor which weighed - down a people in the war of son against father and brother against - brother."--_Hartford Courant._ - - "Among the many romances written recently about the Civil War, this - one by Miss Seawell takes a high place.... Altogether, 'The Victory,' - a title significant in several ways, makes a strong appeal to the - lover of a good tale."--_The Outlook._ - - "Miss Seawell's narrative is not only infused with a tender and - sympathetic spirit of romance and surcharged with human interests, but - discloses, in addition, careful and minute study of local conditions - and characteristic mannerisms. It is an intimate study of life on a - Virginia plantation during an emergent and critical period of American - history."--_Philadelphia North American._ - - "It is one of the romances that make, by spirit as well as letter, - for youth and high feeling. It embodies, perhaps, the best work this - author yet has done."--_Chicago Record-Herald._ - - "Aside from the engaging story itself and the excellent manner in - which it is told there is much of historic interest in this vivid - word-picture of the customs and manners of a period which has formed - the background of much fiction."--_Brooklyn Citizen._ - - -D. 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By the aid of her country - lover she is rescued from the wiles of the fashionable dandy, and his - schemes are thwarted. - - "The story is on a high plane; it is a romance which is entirely free - from the melodramatic quality; in a word, a novel that will enhance - the author's reputation as a writer of fiction of far more than - ordinary attainments."--_Brooklyn Eagle._ - - "He has presented to us the only living beau we have met this many - a year; and where so many hundreds have failed, to say this is the - highest compliment we can pay his book."--_The Outlook._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - -BY LLOYD OSBOURNE. - - -Three Speeds Forward. - -Uniquely illustrated with full-page illustrations, head and tail pieces -and many sketches by Karl Anderson and H. D. Williams. Ornamental -Cloth, $1.00. - - "'Three Speeds Forward' is an amusing automobile story by Lloyd - Osbourne, in which the ostensible teller of what happened is - the girl heroine. A little runabout is the important factor in - the love romance. The book is prettily bound and printed and is - illustrated."--_Toledo Blade._ - - "'Three Speeds Forward,' by Lloyd Osbourne, is a very brief and most - agreeable novelette dealing with modern society and the chug-chug - wagon."--_Philadelphia Inquirer._ - - "The climax of this story is original and most humorous. The action - is rapid and consistent with the subject in hand. Altogether it is - a most enjoyable little volume, well illustrated and attractively - bound."--_Milwaukee Sentinel._ - - "It is a bright and sprightly little story, very strongly flavored - with gasoline, but quite readable. It is attractively and - characteristically illustrated."--_New York Times._ - - -Wild Justice. - -Illustrated. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50. - - "Lloyd Osbourne's stories of the South Sea Islands are second only to - Stevenson's on the same theme. 'Wild Justice' is a volume of these - short stories, beginning with that strong and haunting tale, 'The - Renegade.' These are stories which will bear reading more than once. - They have an atmosphere that it is restful to breathe, once in a - while, to the dwellers in cities and the toilers of these Northern - lands where life is such a stern affair."--_Denver Post._ - - "Mr. Lloyd Osbourne's nine stories of the South Sea Islands ('Wild - Justice') are told with a Kiplingesque vigor, and well illustrate - their title. All are eminently readable--not overweighted with - tragedy, as is the wont of tales that deal with the remote regions of - the earth."--_New York Times._ - - "Mr. Osbourne in 'Wild Justice' has given us a series of stories about - the Samoan Islands and their islanders and their white invaders, - visitors and conquerors which are vivid with humor and pathos."--_New - York Herald._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - -TWO CHARMING STORIES. - - -The Little King of Angel's Landing. - -By ELMORE ELLIOTT PEAKE. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25. - - This is a story of a plucky little cripple of indomitable energy and - perseverance. How, boy-like, he forms an ideal love for his school - teacher and wins a great voting contest for her; how he patiently - saves his pennies to get himself "fixed"; how his faithful dog is - killed and the shock it brings to the frail little soul; how he - struggles onward, upward, and at last comes into his birthright--all - these are incidents of a story the kindly humor and infinite pathos of - which are deeply appealing. - - "There are tears and smiles in every chapter of 'The Little King of - Angel's Landing.'"--_Denver Post._ - - "There is a mighty human interest--a something that takes hold - of your heart and sometimes hurts it a bit, but which presently - makes you correspondingly glad--in 'The Little King of Angel's - Landing.'"--_Cincinnati Times-Star._ - - -The House of Hawley. - -By ELMORE ELLIOTT PEAKE. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50. - - "'The House of Hawley,' by Elmore Elliott Peake, is one of the - 'homiest' stories we have met in a long while.... 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It presents a study of the social - whirl of Greater New York; of a young Harvard graduate who loves - twice; of a young wife, who, led apart from her mate by the gay - maelstrom of the select, plunges into the estrangement with a - butterfly flutter until she is abruptly halted and faced about; of the - doings and sayings that go to make the book what it is--one of the - best of the season."--_Brooklyn Citizen._ - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: - -Words and phrases that were typeset as italics in the original book are -shown in this ebook with and underscore (_) before and after the word -or phrase. - -Illustrations that occurred in mid-paragraph have been moved either up -or down, to avoid interrupting the flow for the reader. - -Typesetter's misspelling of "Herman" has been corrected to "Hermann" -on page 85. - -The period on the second paragraph on page 144 has been corrected to a -colon, to punctuate the paragraph correctly. - -The typesetter's error "in-instinct" on page 325 has been corrected to -"instinct." - -Typesetter's misspelling of "Lucy", on page 301, has been corrected to -"Lucie". - -The typesetter's repetition of "and and" has been corrected on page 46. - -"Chateau" has been corrected to "Château" in three places, (on the -title page, in the list of the author's books, and in the advertisement -for "The Victory",) to regularize spelling in this ebook. - -Typesetter's misspelling of "insiduous" has been corrected to -"insidious", on page 180. - -Numerous changes have been made to regularize hyphenation across this -ebook: - - On page 180, the word "good-will" has been changed to "good will"; - - The words "half-American" have been changed to "half American," on - pages 169 and 181; - - On page 169, the phrase "closely cropped" has been hyphenated; - - The phrase "love-affair", on page 298, has been corrected to "love - affair"; - - On page 183, the phrase "longed-for" has been corrected to "longed - for"; - - "Grown-up" on page 70, has been corrected to "grown up"; - - On page 253, the phrase "matter of fact" has been changed to - "matter-of-fact"; - - The phrase "newly married" has been hyphenated; - - In two instances, (pages 324 and 326), the phrase "far off" has been - hyphenated; to match other usages in the book; - - On page 123, "downstairs" has been corrected to "down stairs"; - - On page 301, "wedding-breakfast" has been corrected to "wedding - breakfast". - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET OF TONI *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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