"Mademoiselle--pardon--he does not know it. Thank God, I am more modest than you suppose! Also he has avowed his love for me--he did so before leaving Paris; still, I have not revealed myself, lest he should disapprove of my action. I am not--not the kind that Mademoiselle supposes." "Forgive me, Louise; I meant my warning to be very friendly. I am rejoiced to hear what you have said. As to his vows of love, however, do not trust him too much. I know my cousin so well. He has loved many times." "Mademoiselle, I also know this, and more besides. At Smolensk, as he lay tossing in fever, a wonderful thing happened; not knowing that I was I, the Baron narrated to me many of his past love affairs, declaring at the last that he remembered only one of those for whom he had felt affection, and that one was, said he, the daughter of Pierre Dupré, _maître d'armes_; imagine, Mademoiselle, my happiness to hear this from him, and to receive a message from his lips to be carried to this Louise Dupré in case of his death." Louise was flushed and her eyes were bright with love-light. Vera looked at her companion and laughed merrily. "I certainly think it the most promising of Henri's love affairs that I have yet heard of," she said; "if I see Henri again----" "Oh, Mademoiselle, for Heaven's sake keep my secret; what would he think--he might say angry words--he might----" "No, no, your secret is safe; I was going to say--I will ask him to tell me of his sickness at Smolensk; perhaps he will confide to me the tale you have just told me; that would prove that he did not suspect you to be yourself." "Oh, Mademoiselle, I am sure he did not, or he would not have told me all that he did of--of other matters," Louise blushed; and Vera laughed and said that perhaps that was so. "At any rate I should keep your secret," she added, "even if I saw my cousin again, which is unlikely. I cannot associate, you see, with Russia's enemies, even though they be personal friends or near relations. There are those who would blame me much for walking with yourself in this way, if they were to see us together. We must not meet again in Moscow. I see you have had promotion; you wear a sergeant's stripes; doubtless for some service done to your Emperor at the expense of my poor country." "At Borodino; the service was small enough and not worth narrating. I have learnt, Mademoiselle, that war is detestable, and the taking of life a most terrible thing; I shall shed no more blood, if I can help it." "This is the most unjust and infernal of wars," said Vera; "all wars are abominable, but this is the worst and wickedest. Farewell, Louise, and thank you for your timely service; this is my street and that is my house. I hope that some day, if happier times should come, we may perhaps be cousins." "Oh, Mademoiselle, may that day dawn indeed--and soon!" Louise raised Vera's hand to her lips and departed with a salute.