die sword in hand and in despair.” 

“There is more than one marquise in the world,” she said, quietly. 

“Not for me.” 

Denise looked at him, and he dropped his eyes, for he understood the calm reproach. 

“Very well,” she said, with decision. “I go to my home tomorrow. You shall have my answer in four days at the Château de Beau Séjour if you care enough to come and hear it.” 

“If--” he broke off. “Ah, Denise--!” he stretched out a passionate hand. 

“Hush! There is someone coming.” 

A young man was galloping towards them, a boy he seemed, saucy, insolent, handsome, fair, with great blue eyes sparkling with the gayest, wickedest, most careless joy of living. Removing his plumed hat with an airy sweep he kissed the lady’s fingers, bowed low in the saddle, and looked into her face: 

“Marquise,” were his words, “the company and His Majesty await you.” His dare-devil eyes roved on to André’s face with a studied insouciance, but André gave him back the look, and more. 

Denise made haste to present the young man. “Monsieur le Chevalier de St. Amant, secretary of the King’s Cabinet,” she said and her eyes pleaded for politeness from both. 

“Monsieur le Vicomte goes to the war?” the Chevalier asked, carelessly. 

“As all true subjects of His Majesty ought to do,” André retorted. 

“Except,” said the Chevalier, bowing to Denise, “those who find more pleasant pastime here at home.” 

“It is curious,” André remarked, as if he had not heard, “that I who have known Versailles for ten years learn today for the first time of St. Amant. Where is St. Amant?” 

“Ah,” answered the Chevalier, laughing, “in this life, Vicomte, we are always learning what is disagreeable. The dull philosophers of whom we hear so much in Paris at present say soldiers learn more than others--or ought to? Perhaps you differ from them?” 

“Ma foi! no. For when it is necessary the soldiers teach what they have learned to the young men and the schoolboys, which is very good for the schoolboys. But perhaps you, 

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