ething had changed in her since yesterday, but she
did not know what it was. The faint wise stars, the pale moon just
sinking, the gentle south breeze could have told her, for they are
old, old in the world's affairs. Occasionally a flash more than
ordinarily brilliant would glint one of the bronze guns beneath the
flag-staff. Then Virginia's heart would glint too. She imagined the
reflection startled her.

She stretched her arms out to the night, embracing its glories,
sighing in sympathy with its meaning, which she did not know. She
felt the desire of restlessness; yet she could not bear to go. But no
thought of the stranger touched her, for you see as yet she did not
understand.

Then, quite naturally, she heard his voice in the darkness close to
her knee. It seemed inevitable that he should be there; part of the
restless, glorious night, part of her mood. She gave no start of
surprise, but half closed her eyes and leaned her fair head against a
pillar of the veranda. He sang in a sweet undertone an old _chanson_
of voyage.

_"Par derrier' chez mon pere,
Vole, mon coeur, vole!
Par derrier' chez mon pere
Li-ya-t-un pommier doux."_

"Ah lady, lady mine," broke in the voice softly, "the night too is
sweet, soft as thine eyes. Will you not greet me?"

The girl made no sign. After a moment the song went on.

_"Trois filles d'un prince,
Vole, mon coeur, vole!
Trois filles d'un prince
Sont endormies dessous."_

"Will not the princess leave her sisters of dreams?" whispered the
voice, fantastically. "Will she not come?"

Virginia shivered, and half-opened her eyes, but did not stir. It
seemed that the darkness sighed, then became musical again.

_"La plus jeun' se reveille,
Vole, mon coeur, vole!
La plus jeun' se reveille
--Ma Soeur, voila le jour!"_

The song broke this time without a word of pleading. The girl opened
her eyes wide and stared breathlessly straight before her at the
singer.

_"--Non, ce n'est qu'une etoile,
Vole, mon coeur, vole!
Non, ce n'est qu'une etoile
Qu'eclaire nos amours!"_

The last word rolled out through its passionate throat tones and died
into silence.

"Come!" repeated the man again, this time almost in the accents of
command.

She turned slowly and went to him, her eyes childlike and frightened,
her lips wide, her face pale. When she stood face to face with him she
swayed and almost fell.

"What do you