nd the frills of the gown, her
white long fingers clasping her fan; every feature, every touch, every
detail, was as finely beautiful as art and nature could make it; Helene
was the perfection of dainty aristocracy in the exquisite freshness of
its youth.

"I will do it--I will do it--for love of you," Ratoneau said, and his
voice became suddenly hoarse. "You are beautiful--and you are
mine--mine."

The girl shuddered from head to foot.

"No!" she said violently.

She did not look at Ratoneau. As to him, he did not speak, but laughed
and bent nearer. She rose to her feet suddenly.

"You forget yourself--you are mad, Monsieur le General," she said
haughtily. "If that is the condition--no! Pray do not concern yourself
about my cousin's affairs, you have nothing to do with them."

Ratoneau rose too, a little unsteadily.

"Listen one moment, mademoiselle," he said. "If I am mad, you are
foolish, let me tell you. I said nothing about conditions, I stated
facts. You will be my wife--therefore you are mine, you belong to me,
and therefore there is nothing I will not do for love of you. My wife is
the most beautiful woman in France, and she stands here."

"Never, never!" murmured Helene. "It has come!" she said to herself.

Her mother had threatened her with this; and now, apparently, all had
been settled without a word to her. Even her father, once on her side,
must be against her now. He had been angry with her; not without reason,
she knew. Yes, this horrible thing had been arranged by her father, her
mother, Georges, while she was kept a prisoner upstairs. If they had
been kinder to her in the last few days, it was only that they wished to
bring their victim smiling to the sacrifice. No wonder Georges had
insisted on her dancing with General Ratoneau. No wonder her mother had
taken pains to dress her beautifully for this ball, which she hated and
dreaded so much.

These thoughts, with a wild desire to escape, rushed through Helene's
mind as she stood breathless before this man who laid such a daring
claim to her. He was smiling, though his lips were white. It is not
pleasant to be treated as horrible scum of the earth by the woman you
have arranged to marry; to see scorn, disgust, hatred in a girl's face,
answering to your finest compliments.

"This young lady has a character--she has a temper--" he muttered
between his teeth. "But you will be tamed, ma belle. Who would have
thought with those pale cheeks of y