"Let me put you on her back," and bent to lift her; but she drew back.
"Oh, no, no, Monsieur!" she cried. "I know why you do it, and I know what a sacrifice it is to you. I cannot let you give up Fatima!"
"Then you are depriving me of a great happiness," I softly answered. "I had hoped you would take her and keep her and love her. It would be a great comfort to me in distant America to think of you as being kind to her sometimes for the sake of old St. Louis memories."
I looked steadily into her eyes.
"Mademoiselle, may I put you on her back?"
She bowed her head, and I lifted her to her seat, put her foot in the stirrup and the bridle in her hand. Then I threw my arm over Fatima's neck.
"Good-by, Sweetheart," I whispered, "take good care of your mistress," and kissed her on the white star on her forehead. Still with my arm over her neck I reached up my hand to mademoiselle.
She put her hand in mine, and I kissed it as I had kissed it when she chose me her king; then I lifted my eyes and looked straight into hers.
"Good-by, Mademoiselle, and au revoir," I said, and dropped her hand.
She could not answer for the same piteous quivering of the chin, but her lips formed "Au revoir"; and then she turned Fatima and rode slowly under the leafy arch that led through a long tunnel of foliage, due east.