ent of younger life sweep by them, men who are in no sense gallants,
but who find a strong attraction in talking to a young and clever woman
on all kinds of subjects that too often lie outside the domain of the
thoughts of youth. Youth, engrossed in the problem of self, persistently
ignores those far more varied and profound problems to be found hidden
in more experienced hearts and lives.

Wallenloup, who distrusted all women and was accordingly disliked by not
a few, always claimed a waltz with Valerie whenever he had the good
fortune to meet her. To him she was a woman worth talking to first, and
a pretty girl afterwards.

Their dance having concluded, Wallenloup walked down the room with his
partner, continuing his monologue. Valerie had been very silent, but the
Colonel had more to say than usual, and his subject happened to be a
very scathing condemnation of outside interference with the affairs of
the Guard. Valerie listened without words. Perhaps her heart beat more
quickly, and there may have been more anxiety in her mind as to the
final upshot of the case in point than her companion could have guessed.
But she showed a flattering amount of interest in his opinion, although
she was well aware that the question was probably being settled once for
all, as far as Rallywood was concerned, in St. Anthony's Cloister,
without the help of Colonel Wallenloup.

Suddenly she leant a little more heavily on his arm.

'My dear Mademoiselle, what is the matter?' exclaimed the Colonel. 'You
are pale. What is it?'

'I am tired, and the saloon has become so hot, but--thanks, I see my
next partner coming,' she answered as Rallywood came towards them.

Wallenloup looked down at her with some reproach.

'This fellow?' he said.

'But why not?' she replied with a little smile. 'Is he not one of the
Guard? Can I aspire to anything higher?'

'Captain Rallywood is not yet of the Guard!' said the old soldier; then
he bowed coldly and turned on his heel, without giving any symptom of
having recognized Rallywood beyond his scornful words.

'I have come, Mademoiselle,' said Rallywood.

The girl's pale cheeks were now touched with a delicate carmine, such as
shines between the fingers of a hand held up against a light. The flush
seemed to heighten and enhance her beauty, or rather it lent her a novel
kindling charm that struck home upon Rallywood's mood.

'What have you been doing?' she asked with interest.

'Breaking glasses