scertain where she was, in
order to be at her service when the hour for departure came. Nor had I
any time to spare, if we were to march out on the fifteenth. I cannot
describe, at this late day, how strangely my allegiance wavered, in
that hour, between the unknown, unseen girl, and the fair, vivacious
Toinette. My heart drew me toward the one, my clear duty to the other;
and I could see no way out of the dilemma except to find Elsa Matherson
without delay, in order that the two should be close together where, as
need arose, I could stand between them and whatever of evil impended.

I fear I was an indifferent guest, for I was never nimble of tongue,
and that night I was more silent than usual. However, De Croix most
effectually hid my retirement by his rare good-humor and the sparkling
badinage with which he concentrated all attention upon himself, and was
consequently soon in the happiest of moods. I know not how the fellow
succeeded in working the miracle, but he sat at the board, upon Mrs.
Helm's left hand, powdered and curled as if he were gracing a banquet
at the Tuileries. His ruffled shirt, glittering buckles, and bright
blue waistcoat, were startling amid such homely surroundings; while his
neatly folded handkerchief of lace exhaled a delicate perfume. Deeply
as I was immersed in my own thoughts and plans, I could not help
admiring his easy grace, and more than once forgot myself in listening
to his marvellous tales and witty anecdotes.

He was detailing a recent scandal of the French court, passing
delicately over its more objectionable features, when I grasped the
opportunity to slip unobserved from the room into the open of the
parade-ground. It proved a dark night without, but the numerous lights
in the surrounding buildings, whose doors and windows were open,
sufficiently illumined the place, so that I found my way about with
little difficulty. A group of soldiers lounged at the open door of the
guard-house, and I paused a moment to speak with one, a curly-headed
lad, who sat smoking, his back resting easily against the logs.

"Are the outer gates ever opened at night?" I asked.

He glanced up at me in surprise, shading his eyes to be assured of my
identity before speaking.

"Scarcely either day or night now, sir," he replied, respectfully, "but
between sunset and sunrise they are specially barred, and a double
guard is set. No one can pass except on the order of Captain Heald."

"In which