sun with fear,
La petit' Rosette,
Not twenty-one as yet!"

Charley's eyes, which had watched her these months past, noted the
deepening colour of the face, the glow in the eyes, the glances of keen
but agitated interest towards the singer. He could not translate her
looks; and she, on her part, had she been compelled to do so, could only
have set down a confusion of sensations.

In Rosette she saw herself, Rosalie Evanturel; in the man "de
quatre-vingt-dix ans," who was to marry this Rosette of Saintonge, she
saw M. Rossignol. Disconcerting pictures of a possible life with
the Seigneur flitted before her mind. She beheld herself, young,
fresh-cheeked, with life beating high and all the impulses of youth
panting to use, sitting at the head of the seigneury table. She saw
herself in the great pew at Mass, stiff with dignity, old in the way
of manorial pride--all laughter dead in her, all spring-time joy
overshadowed by the grave decorum of the Manor, all the imagination of
her dreaming spirit chilled by the presence of age, however kindly and
quaint and cheerful.

She shuddered, and dropped her eyes upon the ground, as, to the laughter
and giggling of old and young gathered round the wagon, the medicine-man
sang:

"He takes her by the hand,
And to her chamber fair--"

Then, suddenly turning, she vanished into the night, followed by the
feeble inquiry of her father's eyes, the anxious look in Charley's.

Charley could not read her tale. He had, however, a hot impulse
to follow and ask her if she would vanish from the scene if the
medicine-man should sing of Rosette and a man of thirty, not ninety,
years. The fight he had had all day with his craving for drink had made
him feverish, and all his emotions--unregulated, under the command of
his will only--were in high temperature. A reckless feeling seized him.
He would go to Rosalie, look into her eyes, and tell her that he loved
her, no matter what the penalty of fate. He had never loved a human
being, and the sudden impulse to cry out in the new language was driving
him to follow the girl whose spirit for ever called to him.

He made a step forward to follow her, but stopped short, recalled to
caution and his danger by the voice of the medicine-man:

"I had a friend once--good fellow, bad fellow, cleverest chap I ever
knew. Tremendous fop--ladies loved him--cheeks like roses--tongue like
sulphuric acid. Beautiful to look a