llowed
by an aching in all her body and a trouble at her heart. Her feet were
like lead, her spirit quivered and shrank by turn. The light of the
campfires sent a glow through the open doorway upon the face of the
sleeper.

She leaned over him. The look she gave him seemed to her anxious spirit
like a farewell. This man had given her a new life, and out of it had
come a new sight. Valmond had escaped death, but in her poor confused
way she felt another storm gathering about him. A hundred feelings
possessed her; but one thought was master of them all: when trouble drew
round him, she must be near him, must be strong to help him, protect
him, if need be. Yet a terrible physical weakness was on her. Her limbs
trembled, her head ached, her heart throbbed in a sickening way.

He stirred in his sleep; a smile passed over his face. She wondered what
gave it birth. She knew well it was not for her, that smile. It belonged
to his dream of success--when a thousand banners should flaunt in the
gardens of the Tuileries. Overcome by a sudden rush of emotion, she fell
on her knees at his side, bursting into noiseless sobs, which shook her
from head to foot.

Every nerve in her body responded to the shock of feeling; she was
having her dark hour alone.

At last she staggered to her feet and turned to the open door. The
tents lay silent in the moonshine, but wayward lights flickered in the
sumptuous dusk, and the quiet of the hills hung like a canopy over the
bivouac of the little army. No token of misfortune came out of this
peaceful encampment, no omen of disaster crossed the long lane of drowsy
fires and huge amorous shadows. The sense of doom was in the girl's own
heart, not in this deep cradle of the hills.

Now and again a sentinel crossed the misty line of vision, silent, and
majestically tall, in the soft haze, which came down from Dalgrothe
Mountain and fell like a delicate silver veil before the face of the
valley.

As she looked, lost in a kind of dream, there floated up from the
distant tent the refrain she knew so well:

"Oh, say, where goes your love?
O gai, vine le roi!"

Her hand caught her bosom as if to stifle a sudden pain. That song had
been the keynote to her new life, and it seemed now as if it were also
to be the final benediction. All her spirit gathered itself up for a
great resolution: she would not yield to this invading weakness, this
misery of body and mind.

Some one dr