It strangled him to think that he must leave her here. He wouldn’t! He would make her come with Marya, Zonia and her mother into the West and take her place in the field by his side. The thought thrilled him with new life. In ten minutes he was holding her in his arms--war and death, poverty and ruin lost in love’s mad rapture. “You must come with me, my own!” he breathed. “I will find a tent for you on the great free plains--you, your mother, and Marya and Zonia. You can follow when I send you the word--” She shook her head sadly. “No, my lover, I cannot surrender to our enemies like that--my place is here.” “Your life is not safe in Waldron’s hands.” “I’m in God’s hands. I have work to do. You shall do yours on the plains training our brave boys for the day that shall surely come. I must do mine here--” “I can’t leave you!” he protested bitterly. “You must. My mother can’t live. I know this. The shock of a journey would kill her. Marya and Zonia shall be my sisters.” For half an hour he pleaded in vain. There was but one answer. “My work is here. I’ve thought it out to the end. I shall not fail. I’ll tell you when I’m ready and you will come then--” There was an inspiration, a lofty spirit of exaltation, in her speech that hushed protest. He pressed her lips. “I will not see you again,” he said at last. “My coming is dangerous to us both. My work is done today. We may be watched by other eyes than Waldron’s guard on your block--” “I am grateful for his help. I shall be sorry for him when the day I dream comes. But it must come. I have betrayed my country by folly beyond God’s forgiveness. I shall do my part now to retrieve that error--” Vassar moved uneasily. “You shall know and approve--and I shall not fail!” She paused and held his gaze with a strange, glowing light in her eyes--the light of religious enthusiasm. It filled him with fear and thrilled him with hope. Her faith was contagious. “You cannot work here--“ she went on, “a price is on your head.” He left her at the door, the same dreamy brilliance in her sensitive face. She stood as if in a trance. He wondered what it meant--what her mysterious work was going to be? CHAPTER XXXVII Three days later the magnificent imperial army entered the fallen metropolis, its scarlet, gold-embossed standards flying, its bands playing. Waldron marched to meet them at the head of twenty-five thousand picked men of his garrison. His division more than made good the losses of battle. When the grand march began at the entrance of the Queensboro Bridge--one hundred and sixty-five thousand men were in line. The immensity of the spectacle stunned the imagination of the curious thousands that pressed close to the curbs and watched them pass. When the German army entered Antwerp in the world war, the streets were absolutely deserted save for stray dogs and cats that howled from wrecked buildings. New York was consumed by a quenchless eagerness to look on their conquerors.