g, and to an officer it is
an agreeable one, of paying homage to order. That his Majesty himself
had approved of her was a higher consecration yet. In the winter, out
on the ice, he had deigned to fasten on her skates. It is true that she
was not alone in this great distinction, or in becoming a member of the
Royal Skating Club. The same honour was accorded to a great number of
young girls besides. But every cavalry and artillery officer
present--and there were many of them standing by when he knelt to
fasten on her skates--considered it a special distinction offered to
_their_ lady.

Supported by the infantry, they sped after her over the glittering ice,
without pause or stop--the Swedes as well. It needed but little stretch
of fancy to picture her leading a sortie, to see in imagination horses,
artillery, powder waggons, gliding over the mirror-like surface to the
sound of horns, tramping of hoofs, and neighing of horses.

But, if she had presented no other aspect than this, all her beauty,
exceptional as it was, would not have accomplished what we have just
seen.

No, there was more than that. She was not a woman to be seized, caught,
held fast--it was like trying to take burning fire in one's hand. "She
was neither for men nor women," some said of her, and the thought
spurred them on. She eluded those who were in her presence, to the
absent she seemed a meteor; if memory is itself luminous, its glow is
heightened by reflection from others.

This impression was strengthened by certain sayings of hers, some of
which went the rounds.

When the King fastened on her skates he said gallantly: "You have the
most charming little foot." "Yes, from to-day onwards," she replied.

A jovial colonel of artillery had dissipated a fortune on his comrades,
on women, and on himself. "I lay my heart at your feet," he said. "Why,
what would you have left to give away?" she laughed, and gave him her
hand for the polonaise.

She stopped in the polonaise before a young lieutenant, who turned
scarlet. "You are one of those one could die for," he whispered.

She took his arm in a friendly manner. "Well, to live for me would
probably be a bore for both of us."

She once went to the poet-in-ordinary of the regiment, a smart captain,
to offer him a philippine. "Do you wish it?" she asked. "There is one
thing we all wish in respect to you," he answered, "but we can never
manage to say it--what can the reason be?" "To say what?" she a