er knew, a
very common story, by the way, but one which would have been quite
distasteful to the haughty judge, her father, had he known.

Odalie was beautiful. Odalie was haughty too, but gracious enough to
those who pleased her dainty fancy. In the old French house on Royal
Street, with its quaint windows and Spanish courtyard green and cool,
and made musical by the plashing of the fountain and the trill of caged
birds, lived Odalie in convent-like seclusion. Monsieur le Juge was
determined no hawk should break through the cage and steal his dove;
and so, though there was no mother, a stern duenna aunt kept faithful
watch.

Alas for the precautions of la Tante! Bright eyes that search for other
bright eyes in which lurks the spirit of youth and mischief are ever on
the look-out, even in church. Dutifully was Odalie marched to the
Cathedral every Sunday to mass, and Tante Louise, nodding devoutly over
her beads, could not see the blushes and glances full of meaning, a
whole code of signals as it were, that passed between Odalie and
Pierre, the impecunious young clerk in the courtroom.

Odalie loved, perhaps, because there was not much else to do. When one
is shut up in a great French house with a grim sleepy tante and no
companions of one's own age, life becomes a dull thing, and one is
ready for any new sensation, particularly if in the veins there bounds
the tempestuous Spanish-French blood that Monsieur le Juge boasted of.
So Odalie hugged the image of her Pierre during the week days, and
played tremulous little love-songs to it in the twilight when la Tante
dozed over her devotion book, and on Sundays at mass there were glances
and blushes, and mayhap, at some especially remembered time, the touch
of finger-tips at the holy-water font, while la Tante dropped her last
genuflexion.

Then came the Carnival time, and one little heart beat faster, as the
gray house on Royal Street hung out its many-hued flags, and draped its
grim front with glowing colours. It was to be a time of joy and
relaxation, when every one could go abroad, and in the crowds one could
speak to whom one chose. Unconscious plans formulated, and the petite
Odalie was quite happy as the time drew near.

"Only think, Tante Louise," she would cry, "what a happy time it is to
be!"

But Tante Louise only grumbled, as was her wont.

It was Mardi Gras day at last, and early through her window Odalie
could hear the jingle of folly bells on th