“And _I_’ve never cut the cake before! Oh, you must take a piece from me! There will be luck in it.” Renée took the piece laughingly, spread out her handkerchief, and broke it in two or three fragments. Out fell the ring. “Oh! oh! oh!” and there was a crowd about her. She slipped it on her finger and was handed her nose-gay. Whom would she choose? There were eager eyes and indrawn breaths, smiles that asked in wordless language, young men crowding nearer. She went over to Denys. “You always were my king,” she said in a low, sweet tone that touched him immeasurably. “I am glad to give you the royal signet, a rose.” Gaspard Denys bowed like a young courtier. “You know I must have done it besides my own desire,” she whispered. “There would have been quarrels and heart burnings.” “Yes,” nodding that he understood. “Ma’m’selle Renée, that is hardly fair,” declared an aggrieved one. “There are so many young men——” “And other queens, and a room full of pretty girls. I will give you one dance.” His face lighted up with joy. “It will end by a marriage, mark my words,” said the mother of three daughters. “No, it cannot,” returned Madame Gardepier, with secret exultation. “He was appointed her uncle and guardian by the Church. It would be unlawful.” “True enough. But if she would settle upon some one in earnest the rest would stand a chance. I don’t know what there is about her. And she’s past eighteen. It won’t do for her to waste many more years.” Renée and her uncle danced twice. Then she said, with the persuasive touch in her voice that he never could resist: “Now you must dance with Madame Gardepier and some of the young girls, while I comfort the disconsolate. And we will go home early.” But there was such an outcry she could not get away so easily. They were all as eager as if there had never been balls before and would never be one again. Renée would not attend the next one. Gaspard grumbled at having to go by himself and meet the storm of reproaches. “See, I will tie up my head—you can say you left me that way,” and she passed a folded handkerchief about it, that made her look more coquettish than ever. “Now—I might rub a bit of garlic over my eyes and they would look red enough.” Gaspard laughed in spite of a little ill humor. Renée settled herself in his big chair and wrapped her feet in the fur robe. How the wind blew without, though the moonless sky was brilliant with stars. The trees writhed and groaned, and she fancied she could hear the lashing of the river. Occasionally a gust blew down the chimney, driving long tongues of flame out into the room and scattering ashes about. But the house of split logs, plastered on the outside and within, was solid enough. She only laughed when the wind banged up against it and had to depart with sullen grumbling.