ame the dark shade, pursued by the light, until the entire slope of
the hill was radiant and the sad colored foliage flaunted in new-born
gaiety.

Returning from the stable, where he had been looking after his horse,
the soldier stood for a moment before the inn, when a flower fell at
his feet, and, glancing over his shoulder, he perceived Susan, who was
leaning from her window. The venturesome rose, which had clambered as
high as the second story, was gone; plucked, alas, by the wayward hand
of a coquette. Saint-Prosper bowed, and stooped for the aspiring but
now hapless flower which lay in the dust.

"You have joined the chariot, I hear?" said Susan.

"For the present," he replied.

"And what parts will you play?" she continued, with smiling
inquisitiveness.

"None."

"What a pity! You would make a handsome lover." Then she blushed.
"Lud! What am I saying? Besides"--maliciously--"I believe you have
eyes for some one else. But remember,"--shaking her finger and with a
coquettish turn of the head--"I am an actress and therefore vain. I
must have the best part in the new piece. Don't forget that, or I'll
not travel in the same chariot with you." And Susan disappeared.

"Ah, Kate," she said, a moment later, "what a fine-looking young man
he is!"

"Who?" drawled her sister.

"Mr. Saint-Prosper, of course."

"He is large enough," retorted Kate, leisurely.

"Large enough! O, Kate, what a phlegmatic creature you are!"

"Fudge!" said the other as she left the chamber.

Entering the tavern, the soldier was met by the wiry old lady who
bobbed into the breakfast room and explained the kind of part that
fitted her like a glove, her prejudices being strong against modern
plays.

"Give me dramas like 'Oriana,' 'The Rival Queens' or Webster's
pieces," she exclaimed, quoting with much fire for her years:

"'We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves!'"

"And do not forget the 'heavy' in your piece!" called out Hawkes
across the table. "Something you can dig your teeth in!"

"Nor the 'juvenile lead,'" chimed in the Celtic Adonis.

"Adonis makes a great hit in a small part," laughed Kate, appearing at
the door. "'My lord, the carriage is waiting!'"

"My lady, your tongue is too sharp!" exclaimed Adonis, nettled.

"And put in a love scene for Adonis and myself," she continued, lazily
floating into the room. "He is so fond of me, it would not be like
acting!"

This bantering was at length interrupt