She was seated on the arm of my chair. She drew back her head with a
smile trembling on her lips, with a lustre burning in her eyes like a
vigil--a vigil for me.

"He reminded me of you," she answered.

I was lost in sheer, bewildering happiness. And she who created it, who
herself was that happiness, roused me from it.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I was thinking that a star has fallen,--that I may have a jewel beyond
other men," I said.

"And a star has risen for me," she said, "that I may have a guide beyond
other women."

"Then it is you who have raised it, Helene." I was silent a moment,
trying again to bring the matter within my grasp. "Do you mean that you
love me, that you will marry me, that you will come back to Kentucky
with me and will be content,--you, who have been the companion of a
Queen?"

There came an archness into her look that inflamed me the more.

"I, who have been the companion of a Queen, love you, will marry you,
will go back to Kentucky with you and be content," she repeated. "And
yet not I, David, but another woman--a happy woman. You shall be my
refuge, my strength, my guide. You will lead me over the mountains and
through the wilderness by the paths you know. You will bring me to Polly
Ann that I may thank her for the gift of you,--above all other gifts in
the world."

I was silent again.

"Helene," I said at last, "will you give me the miniature?"

"On one condition," she replied.

"Yes," I said, "yes. And again yes. What is it?"

"That you will obey me--sometimes."

"It is a privilege I long for," I answered.

"You did not begin with promise," she said.

I released her hand, and she drew the ivory from her gown and gave it
me. I kissed it.

"I will go to Monsieur Isadore's and get the frame," I said.

"When I give you permission," said Helene, gently.

I have written this story for her eyes.

CHAPTER XV. AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF A MAN

Out of the blood and ashes of France a Man had arisen who moved real
kings and queens on his chess-board--which was a large part of the
world. The Man was Napoleon Buonaparte, at present, for lack of a better
name, First Consul of the French Republic. The Man's eye, sweeping the
world for a new plaything, had rested upon one which had excited the
fancy of lesser adventurers, of one John Law, for instance. It was a
large, unwieldy plaything indeed, and remote. It was nothing less than
that vast and mysterious coun