That vexed her. She flushed and looked prettier than ever, but tormenting as well, as a half-veiled touch of indignation seemed to pass from her shining eyes. “As if I cared!” with a laugh like the softest ripple. “Then—you do not—love him?” André’s voice had the hoarseness of an unspoken fear in it. He was amazed at the boldness of his question. “Why should I love him? Why should I want to go away from this dear home, from Uncle Gaspard?” “But he will persuade you——” “Will he?” She glanced up so daring, so defiant and resolute, that he gave a happy laugh. “That is right. Oh, Renée, child, do not let any one persuade you! You are too young. And then, by and by—yes, you will know some one cares for you with his whole soul, will lay all that he has at your feet——” “He had better not. I should simply dance over it. Now let us go back. I am all rested. You shall have the next dance with me.” Monsieur Laflamme made no movement toward her, but seemed quite devoted to a new partner. Did he really care so much? Renée felt piqued with this display of indifference. This dance had a chain of persons going in and out and turning partners. As that gentleman approached she gave her rose a caressing touch and glanced up with eyes so alight and full of beseechingness that he pressed her hand in token that all was peace between them, and her wilful heart exulted. “My charming queen,” he said in an appealing tone, “may I come back to my rightful place and sun myself in your smiles? Did I offend you?” She was not used to such flowery speech, but it sounded delightful to her. And yet it did not seem quite sincere. But she waved her hand playfully to André and went with M. Laflamme to the head of the row of dancers. It was hardly likely she would be queen again after to-night. André Valbonais looked on puzzled, confused. He danced with several other girls, he chatted with the mothers and fathers, but it seemed as if one side of his nature did not respond to anything. It was so curiously cold that the smiles Renée lavished on every one did not arouse any jealous resentment. It was like an ice-bound stream that would awaken presently; the spring sunshine never failed to burst the bounds. They came to the end of the night’s pleasure. Several lovers were glancing at each other with confident, lingering smiles that mothers understood and did not disapprove of, even while they hurried their daughters away. “There can be but one more ball, Lent falls so early,” said some one. “True. Well, let us make it on Tuesday night.” “Oh, you forget! That is the masked ball.” “What matter, so long as there is dancing and fun?” “But we are not all allowed at the masked ball. That is more for the older people. Oh, I hope next year I shall be a queen!”