Her lifted chin expressed a strength I could not combat. The slight, dark-haired girl, younger than myself, mastered and drew me as if my spirit was a stream, and she the ocean into which it must flow. Darkness like that of Ste. Pélagie dropped over the brilliant room. I was nothing after all but a palpitating boy, venturing because he must venture. Light seemed to strike through her blood, however, endowing her with a splendid pallor.
"I am going," I determined that moment, "to Mittau."
The adorable curve of her eyelids, unlike any other eyelids I ever saw, was lost to me, for her eyes flew wide open.
"To ——"
She looked around and hesitated to pronounce the name of the Count of Provence.
"Yes. I am going to find some one who belongs to me."
"You have the marquis for a friend."
"And I have also Skenedonk, and our tribe, for my friends. But there is no one who understands that a man must have some love."
"Consult Marquis du Plessy about going to Mittau. It may not be wise. And war is threatened on the frontier."
"I will consult him, of course. But I am going."