"She had not been searched, but was sent over for special examination. She was in agony. I tried to pacify her. She declared she was an American, and begged me to send at once for the officers of the American Legation. It was very late. The best I could do was to give her a room and put a trusty sergeant in charge. I sent a messenger instantly to the American Legation with a letter. She was in mortal terror of her life. She showed me a portmanteau, with magnificent jewels and valuables. I calmed her terrified child. The lady insisted I should take charge of her jewels and papers. I said: "'Madame, I do not know you.' "She cried, 'A French officer is always a gentleman.' "In the morning before I marched off guard, a carriage with a foreign gentleman and one of the attach‚s of the United States Embassy, came with a special order from General Le Fl“ for her release. She had told me she was trying to get out of Paris with her child, who had been in a convent. It was situated in the midst of the fighting and had been cut off. Passing many fearful risks, she was finally arrested as 'suspicious.' "She persists in saying I saved her life. She would have been robbed, truly, in that mad whirl of human devils penned up there under the chassepots of the guards on the walls. Oh! it was horrible." The young soldier paused. "She thanked me, and was gracious enough not to offer me a reward. I am bidden to call on her in a few days, as soon as we are tranquil, and receive her thanks. "I have never seen such beauty in woman," continues the officer. "A Venus in form; a daughter of the South, in complexion,--and her thrilling eyes!" Gentle Louise murmurs, "And the young lady?" "A Peri not out of the gates of Paradise," cries the enthusiastic artist. "What is she? who is she?" cried the circle. Even PŠre Fran‡ois lifted his head in curiosity. Raoul threw two cards on the table. A dainty coronet with the words, {Madame Natalie de Santos, 97 Champs Elysees.} appeared on one; the other read, {Le Comte Ernesto Villa Rocca, Jockey Club.} "And you are going to call?" said Armand. "Certainly," replies Raoul. "I told the lady I was an artist. She wishes to give me a commission for a bust of herself. I hope she will; I want to be again at my work. I am tired of all this brutality." That looked-for day comes. France struggles to her feet, and loads the Teuton with gold. He retires sullenly to where he shows his grim cannons, domineering the lovely valleys of Alsace and the fruitful fields of Lorraine. Louise Moreau is well now. The visits of her responsible guardian are resumed. Adroit as a priest can be, PŠre Fran‡ois cannot run down this visitor. Too sly to call in others, too proud to use a hireling, in patience the priest bides his time.