alley, near the poplars at the lower end of the rose terrace he caught a glimpse of a white dress (undoubtedly a simpler dress than that worn by Madame d'Esclignac). 

 CHAPTER III A SECOND INVITATION 

 "I don't think, mon Capitaine, that it is any use," Brunet told his master. 

 Sabron, in his shirt-sleeves, sat before a table on which, in a basket, lay Michette's only surviving puppy. It was a month old. Sabron already knew how bright its eyes were and how alluring its young ways. 

 "Be still, Brunet," commanded the officer.  "You do not come from the south or you would be more sanguine. Pitchouné has got to live." 

 The puppy's clumsy adventuresome feet had taken him as far as the highroad, and on this day, as it were in order that he should understand the struggle for existence, a bicycle had cut him down in the prime of his youth, and now, according to Brunet, "there wasn't much use!" 

 Pitchouné was bandaged around his hind quarters and his adorable little head and forepaws came out of the handkerchief bandage. 

 "He won't eat anything from me, mon Capitaine," said Brunet, and Sabron ceremoniously opened the puppy's mouth and thrust down a dose. Pitchouné swallowed obediently. 

 Sabron had just returned from a long hard day with his troops, and tired out as he was, he forced himself to give his attention to Pitchouné. A second invitation to dinner lay on his table; he had counted the days until this night. It seemed too good to be true, he thought, that another picture was to add itself to his collection! He had mentally enjoyed the others often, giving preference to the first, when he dined at the château; but there had been a thrill in the second caused by the fluttering of the white dress down by the poplar walk. 

 To-night he would have the pleasure of taking in Miss Redmond to dinner. 

 "See, mon Capitaine," said Brunet, "the poor little fellow can't swallow it." 

 The water trickled out from either side of Pitchouné's mouth. The sturdy terrier refused milk in all forms, had done so since Sabron weaned him; but Sabron now returned to his nursery days, made Brunet fetch him warm milk and, taking the quill, dropped a few drops of the soothing liquid, into which he put a dash of brandy, down Pitchouné's throat. 

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