her dark eyes, the rope of pearls round her milk-white throat, the
shimmer of her yellow satin gown--all--all were in my mind waking and
sleeping, for long afterwards. She gave me her hand to kiss in
farewell, and then, holding my rough palm in her two velvety ones, she
said to Count Saxe:

"Will you promise me, Count Saxe, if ever I need Babache, you will let
me have him?"

"I promise you, Mademoiselle," gallantly replied Count Saxe. "I could
not refuse you even the most valuable thing I have; and if that day
comes, I only ask that Babache may serve you as faithfully as he has
served me."

All of which was sweet music to my ears.

At daylight next morning we were in the saddle. As we rode out of the
courtyard in the pale December dawn I saw a light in Francezka's
chamber.

We took the familiar road past the Italian garden, the statues showing
ghostlike in the cold gray light, the lake a sheet of ice. Soon the
chateau of Capello was behind us. The two Chevernys joined us a mile
from the chateau and rode with us a stage. Count Saxe was cheerful, as
always, and spoke with enthusiasm of again seeing Mademoiselle
Adrienne Lecouvreur. She was one whose money a man might lose, and if
honorably lost, might safely face. Is not that high praise?

At the end of the first stage the Chevernys bade us adieu. It was but
for a brief time with Gaston, for however he might cherish a lady in
his heart, his duty as a man came first; and with a small estate, it
behooved him to be very active in his profession of arms, that he
might not be known as a laggard and sluggard. Count Saxe contemplated
the buying of a regiment as soon as a fit opportunity came--he shortly
after bought the regiment of Spar--and Gaston Cheverny must needs be
on the spot, if he wished, as he needed, promotion. Regnard's ampler
fortune made him freer than Gaston, but he was not a man likely to
forget his own advancement. We saw them depart with regret, and then
increased our own pace. We traveled rapidly, and on the third evening
after leaving the chateau of Capello, our horses' hoofs clattered
against the stones of Paris. Oh, that fateful town! I have always had
a fear of it--a dread of its fierce people, women as well as men; and
though I was born there, I think I never spent a comfortable day there
after I cut my milk-teeth.

Instead of going to the Luxembourg, where it was understood quarters
were reserved for Count Saxe, he went to a small inn and pres