Early in 1914, with her gold reserves grown large enough for the venture, she set sail for the siege of Paris. To her charm and sterling worth it had soon capitulated--a quicker victory than she had dared to hope for. Around her studio in a street off the Champs Elysees she gathered a coterie of kindred souls. She told of the idealism and camaraderie of the little circle, while its foibles she touched upon with much merriment. Behind this outward jesting I gained a glimpse of the fight she had made for her advance. "It's been hard," I said, "but what a lot you have found along the way." "Yes, far more than you can imagine," she replied; "I have found Robert le Marchand." "And who is he?" "Well, he is an artist and an athlete, and he is just back from Albania--where he had most wonderful adventures. He has written them up for 'Gaulois.' His home is in Normandy. And he is heir to a large estate in Italy in the South--in what looks like the heel on the map. And he has a degree from the Sorbonne and he is the real prince of our little court. And, best of all, he loves me." Then she told the story of her becoming the princess of the little court. "From his ancestral place in Italy," she said, "Robert sent me baskets of fruit gathered in his groves by his own hands. In one he placed a sprig of orange-blossoms. We laughed about it when we met again and------" I saw that after this affairs had ripened to a quick conclusion. In drives along the boulevards, in walks through the moonlit woods, at dinners, concerts, dances--these two mingled their dreams for their home in Normandy. The only discord in this summer symphony was a frowning father. Marie was the epitome of all charms and graces. Yes. But she came undowered--that was all. And firm he stood against any breach in the long established code of his class. But they did not suffer this to disturb their plans and reveries, and through those soft July days they roamed together in their lotus-land. Then suddenly thundered that dream-shattering cannon out of the north. "I was out of town for the week end," Marie continued; "I heard the beating of the 'General' and at call for mobilization I flew back here as quickly as I could. It was too late. There was only a note saying that he had gone, and how hard it was to go without one farewell." "Now what are you going to do?" "What can I do with Robert gone and all his friends in the army too?" "Let me do what I can. Let me play substitute," I volunteered. "Do you really mean what you just said?" she queried. "I really do," I answered. "Well, then, do you paddle a canoe?" "Yes, but what has that to do with the question?" I replied perplexedly. "Everything," she responded. "Robert is stationed at Corbeille, fifteen miles below here on the Seine. I have the canoe and tomorrow I want you to go with me down the river to Robert.".