"Then farewell, Mademoiselle; in that hope I shall live." Henri drew her to him. "Upon your lips," he said, "I seal my promise to return." Louise did not resist. "It is true that I love you, Monsieur," she said; "I that never thought to love a man!" "By the Saints," Henri murmured, as he hastened away, "that is an easier conquest than I expected. Moreover, she is splendid. It is certain," he reflected five minutes later, "that I have never been nearer to falling in love than at this moment--be careful, Henri." "When I return," his thoughts ran presently, "there will be some pleasant hours to spend in tilling this virgin soil--_tiens_! I wish I was not going so soon!" Then Henri d'Estreville proceeded with his farewell visits, which included affecting leave-takings with several ladies of his acquaintance. Louise sat dreaming for half an hour. Then she rose with flushed face. "Of course," she muttered, "it is the only way, and what better could there be? I will do it at once." When the household of Pierre Dupré sat down to dinner, Louise was absent. The rest, with the exception of young Maux, were silent and depressed. When Louise came in her eyes shone brightly, her cheeks were flushed, and she smiled with some embarrassment as she laid by her sister's plate a folded paper. Marie took it up and glanced at it. Suddenly she uttered an exclamation. "What is it--what have you done, Louise?" she cried. "It is a demission, Karl, in your name, in respect of a substitute 'Michel Prevost'. Louise, did my father--oh, where did you raise the money, sister?--Oh, Karl, see, she has saved us--she has saved us!" "What mean you?" exclaimed old Pierre. "What have you done, Louise? You have paid for a substitute for Karl? By all the gods, child, I will not have it; it is an outrage; I will----" "Father, let me speak," said Louise; "it is very simple. I have no money; I have paid no one. The conscript room is crowded with busy people--one has but to go up in turn to the sergeant, answer a question or two and pass on. 'Who are you?' 'Michel Prevost.' 'Conscript or substitute?' 'Substitute for Karl Havet.' 'Height?' 'Five feet seven.' 'Health?' 'Perfect'--scribble, scribble; a paper is handed you--'Drill yard at seven to-morrow--pass on!' and it is done." "What do you mean, Louise?" exclaimed Havet, starting from his seat. "You have not----" "Do you not understand," cried Marie, laughing hysterically, "it is Louise herself who has----" "Yes," said Louise, "that is it, Marie; I am Michel Prevost." "_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed old Pierre; "is it so indeed, Louise?" "It is so, father; I am Private Michel Prevost; you shall have your desire at last; by my own will I am going forth. I shall be in good company, my father, for my regiment is attached to the _corps d'armée_ of Marshal Ney himself; hear you that? I shall fight under his colours, the Bravest of the brave. Are you satisfied, father, have I done well? And you, Marie, are you satisfied?"