f her mind. She could gain nothing by force;
she must use cunning. To hold him at arm's length, and yet to hold him,
was her desire. She had reckoned on wax; a man stood before her. All at
once the flutter of admiration stirred in her heart. She was a soldier's
daughter, the daughter of a man who loved strong men. And this man was
doubly strong because he was fearless and honest. She read in his eyes
that a moment more and he had kissed her, a thing no man save her father
had ever done.

"O, Monsieur," she said lightly, "you soldiers are such forward lovers!
You have not even asked me if I love you." He made a move to regain her
hands. "No, no!" darting behind the chair. "You must not take my hands;
you do not realize how strong you are. I am not sure that my heart
responds to yours."

"Tell me, what must I do?" leaning across the chair.

"You must have patience. A woman must be wooed her own way, or not at
all. What a whirlwind you are!"

"I would to heaven," with a gesture indicative of despair, "that you
had kept me behind bars and closed doors." He dropped his hands from the
chair and sought the window, leaning his arms against the central frame.

Madame had fully recovered her composure. She saw her way to the end.

"It is true," she said, "that I do not love you, but it is also true
that I am not indifferent to you. What proof have I that you really love
me? None, save your declaration; and that is not sufficient for a woman
such as I am. Shall I place my life in your hands for better or for
worse, simply because you say you love me?"

"My love does not reason, Madame."

She passed over this stroke. "I do not know you; it is not less than
natural for me to doubt you. What proof have I that your declaration
of love is not a scheme to while away your captivity at my expense?
My heart is not one to be taken by storm. There is only one road to my
affections; it is narrow. Other men have made love to me, but they have
hesitated to enter upon this self-same road."

"Love that demands conditions? I have asked none."

Madame blushed. "A man offers love; a woman confers it."

"And what is this narrow road called which leads to your affections? Is
your heart a citadel?"

"It is called sacrifice. Those who dwell in my heart, which you call a
citadel, enter by that road."

"Sacrifice?" Fervor lighted his face again. "Do you wish my fortune? It
is yours. My life? It is yours. Do you wish me to lead the army of t