ung and old, rich and poor, high and low, the
sound of their laughter and the scraping of their feet cut now and again
by an agonized squeak from Zeron's fiddle. From time to time a
staggering, panting couple would fling themselves out, help themselves
liberally to pink sirop from the bowl on the side table, and then fling
themselves in once more, until Zeron stopped from sheer exhaustion, to
tune up for a pas de deux.

Across the room, by the sirop bowl, a pair of red ribbons flaunted, a
pair of eyes sent a swift challenge, Zeron and his assistants struck up
again, and there in a corner was Nick Temple, with characteristic
effrontery attempting a pas de deux with Suzanne. Though Nick was
ignorant, he was not ungraceful, and the village laughed and admired.
And when Zeron drifted back into a valse he seized Suzanne's plump figure
in his arms and bore her, unresisting, like a prize among the dancers,
avoiding alike the fat and unwieldy, the clumsy and the spiteful. For a
while the tune held its mad pace, and ended with a shriek and a snap on a
high note, for Zeron had broken a string. Amid a burst of laughter from
the far end of the room I saw Nick stop before an open window in which a
prying Indian was framed, swing Suzanne at arm's length, and bow abruptly
at the brave with a grunt that startled him into life.

"Va-t'en, mechant!" shrieked Suzanne, excitedly.

Poor Gaspard! Poor Hippolyte! They would gain Suzanne for a dance only
to have her snatched away at the next by the slim and reckless young
gentleman in the gray court clothes. Little Nick cared that the affair
soon became the amusement of the company. From time to time, as he
glided past with Suzanne on his shoulder, he nodded gayly to Colonel
Chouteau or made a long face at me, and to save our souls we could not
help laughing.

"The girl has met her match, for she has played shuttle-cock with all
the hearts in the village," said Monsieur Chouteau. "But perhaps it is
just as well that Mr. Temple is leaving to-night. I have signed a bond,
Mr. Ritchie, by which you can obtain money at New Orleans. And do not
forget to present our letter to Monsieur de Saint Gre. He has a
daughter, by the way, who will be more of a match for your friend's
fascinations than Suzanne."

The evening faded into twilight, with no signs of weariness from the
dancers. And presently there stood beside us Jean Baptiste Lenoir, the
Colonel's miller.

"B'soir, Monsieur le Colonel," he s