They went down the Rue Royale a happy, light-hearted crowd, crunching the snow under their feet and looking up at the stars that seemed to shine with unwonted brilliance, as if they had really usurped the place of the moon. And here was the Chouteau house, a great white mound, the dormer windows in the roof like some curious eyes. The throng thinned out. Renée and André turned up their own street. “And did you like those newcomers very much?” he began, as if they were continuing a conversation. “They were nice dancers—yes, elegant dancers.” “They’re much interested in the king’s ball. Renée, if you draw a bean, who shall you choose?” “Oh, how can I tell? The handsomest man.” “The handsomest are not always the worthiest.” “That sounds like a grandam. Why should one care for a night? One dances for the pleasure.” “But it may lead to——” “To all manner of ills, such as falling in love. I suppose that is a very great ill. Were you ever in love, André?” laughing in a mocking mood. “Oh, with you, a hundred times! Else I should not be so ready to do your bidding.” “But with any one else?” “Why do you want to know?” “But you said you were in love with me.” Her tone had in it the daintiest bit of upbraiding. “Yes, when I ran away with you and Wawataysee. When I watched over you day and night. When I do your bidding now as if I was your slave.” “There’s another kind of love.” “Ma’m’selle, that’s too sacred to talk about lightly.” Dragon, the great hound, was watching at the gate. He made no objection when André opened it, but he looked up and down the street. “Your master will come presently. He is all right,” said André. “Or, if you like to, go for him.” Dragon signified that he did. André opened the door. Mère Lunde was asleep in her chair. She had piled several logs on the fire, and they had just burst into a blaze that glorified the apartment. Another hound lay half asleep in the warmth, but he beat his tail to let them know that he heard. Renée threw off her wraps, took out her comb and shook her hair over her shoulders. What a shining mass it was! Her eyes were softly bright in their quartz-like glow. André thought she had not looked as beautiful the whole evening, and he was glad without knowing just why. “Good-night,” he said abruptly. “Friga will see that no harm befalls you.” “Thank you, André,” and she smiled upon him with a sweetness that he took outside with him. “She will be a flirt,” he said to himself. “But, after all, she is only a child and she doesn’t know what deep, heartfelt love is. Heaven keep her from the knowledge until she has had her fling. The bright, winsome things have the most power.” Renée was standing there when Uncle Gaspard came in. He put his arms around her and kissed her shining head and drooping eyelids. “You had a nice time?” “It was splendid!” in a joyous tone. “I like that young Rivé very much. M. Cruzat is well pleased with him. Go to bed, kitten.”