Sabron, bending over her hand, assured her that he had not forgotten. Then his eyes traveled to her companion. Miss Redmond wore a very simple dress, as was her fashion, but the young officer from Africa who had not seen her near by until now and who had only caught a glimpse of her across the opera-house, thought that he had never seen such a beautiful dress in all his life. It was made of soft gray cloth and fitted her closely, and in the lapel of her mannish little buttonhole she wore a few Parma violets. He recognized them. They had come from a bunch that he had sent her the night before. He kissed her hand, and they stood talking together, the three of them, for a few moments, Pitchouné stationing himself as a sentinel by Miss Redmond's side. The Marquis d'Esclignac rose. The young girl rose as well, and they walked on together. "_Mes enfants_," said the Marquise d'Esclignac, "don't go with your usual rush, Julia. Remember that Monsieur de Sabron is not as strong as Hercules yet. I will follow you with Pitchouné." But she spoke without knowledge of the dog. Now feeling that some unwonted happiness had suddenly burst upon the horizon that he knew, Pitchouné seemed suddenly seized with a rollicking spirit such as had been his characteristic some years ago. He tore like mad down the path in front of Sabron and Miss Redmond. He whirled around like a dervish, he dashed across the road in front of automobiles, dashed back again, springing upon his master and whining at the girl's feet. "See," said Sabron, "how happy he is." "I should think he would be happy. He must have a knowledge of what an important animal he is. Just think! If he were a man they would give him a decoration." And the two walked tranquilly side by side. Pitchouné ran to the side of the road, disappeared into a little forest all shot through with light. He came back, bringing the remains of an old rubber ball lost there by some other dog, and laid it triumphantly in front of Miss Redmond. "See," said Sabron, "he brings you his trophies." CHAPTER XXVIII HAPPINESS Le Comte de Sabron finished his dressing. Brunet surveyed his master from the tip of his shining boots to his sleek fair head. His expressive eyes said: "Monsieur le Capitaine is looking well to-night." Brunet had never before given his master a direct compliment. His eyes only had the habit of expressing admiration, and the manner in which he performed his duties, his devotion, were his forms of compliment. But Sabron's long illness and absence, the fact that he had been snatched from death and given back to the army again, leveled between servant and master the impassable wall of etiquette. "There will be a grand dinner to-night, will there not, Monsieur le Capitaine? Doubtless Monsieur le Colonel and all the gentlemen will be there." Brunet made a comprehensive gesture as though he comprised the entire _état major_.