red for this question
of Gaston Cheverny's; it confused me, and I showed it.

"I see," he said, after a moment. "Regnard has been pursuing
Francezka. But, no doubt, she has told him, as she was quite at
liberty to do, of our marriage. It is only the public knowledge of it
that would place her in jeopardy. Well, the secret is safe enough with
Regnard. He is deeply chagrined. I feel for him, because he is my
brother; but in love and war, one must learn to face defeat."

Then he asked after his dog, and all I had to tell him contented him
very much.

By that time it was ten o'clock. It was Gaston Cheverny's custom, as
well as mine, to walk a little out of doors every night before we
slept, so we walked together on the bank of the river. The night was
sultry and starless; it looked as if there would be rain on the
morrow. All was still and sleeping in the little town. In our own
quarters, a low stone house, there was no light. Count Saxe was weary
with his long day's ride, and had gone to bed immediately after
supper. The other officers had followed his example. It seemed as if
the whole world slept, except Gaston Cheverny and me. We walked up and
down the river bank under a lowering night sky speaking but little,
and that mostly of Francezka.

Gaston had the same golden hopes that Francezka had. Beautiful visions
of their future life arose before him. He was full of a noble
enthusiasm for his profession and looked to achieving distinction as a
counterbalance to Francezka's fortune. Like Francezka, he seemed to
have fallen into that dazzling error that Fate was under bond to favor
them.

When, at last, we turned our steps toward the house, Gaston stopped
for a moment on the threshold, and said:

"But what if misfortune befall? Francezka will no more forget me than
I shall forget her--and when I forget her, may God forget me." These
were his final words.

I went to my chamber, and was soon asleep upon my camp bed. I awakened
about two o'clock in the morning with a strange feeling that something
disastrous had happened. The rain was falling heavily--a summer rain
that fell in great drops musically upon the thirsty ground and the
trees in full leaf. So strong was the feeling of apprehension upon me
that I rose quietly, slipped on my clothes, and opened the door to
Count Saxe's room. He was lying in his bed, sound asleep. The window
was wide open--for the night had been uncomfortably warm. It occurred
to me how easy i