“Yes; your note helped--and--and the rose leaves,” I added hoarsely. “I found them--in your bosom,” she said, her color deepening. “I thought--perhaps--you would like to have them.” “Yes,” I said; “yes;” then stopped, looking at her. “But one may lose a battle even after winning it,” I warned her. “I fear I am losing mine. You are trusting me too far, as you did once before. Do you remember?” and my blood glowed at the recollection. “Don’t!” she said, and turned away. “Where is----” I hesitated, looking about me. I could not say the words. “Your betrothed?” she finished, turning back, her eyes gleaming in the old manner. “You are longing for her, then?” “Without a rock to tie to,” I said as calmly as I could, “I shall be swept away in another moment, beyond hope of rescue. I have never seen you so beautiful. I have never loved you----” She stopped me with a gesture. “M. de Tavernay,” she said with impressive gravity, “it is my painful duty to tell you that Mlle. de Benseval no longer exists.” “She is dead!” I murmured dazedly. “Oh, not in the least. She was never more thoroughly alive than at this moment.” “Then she is married!” I cried, a great load lifting from my heart. “I see it all--she _did_ love another--she has married him.” “Wrong again, monsieur. She is still a maiden and does not love another.” “Come!” I said. “You are playing with me. I warn you, it is dangerous!” and I gripped my arms behind me to keep them from about her. She noticed the movement and retreated a step. “Monsieur,” she said, “I will tell you the story--if you will promise to remain where you are until I have finished.” “And after you have finished?” “Oh--then--you may do as you please.” “I promise!” I cried, the blood bounding madly through my veins. “It seems that your betrothed is a wilful and headstrong creature,” she began, “and when the time came to prepare to marry you she rebelled. She had been permitted to form ideas of her own. She refused to give herself to a man she had never seen, or whom she remembered only as a thin and unattractive boy. So the day before you were to arrive, having failed to exact from her father the promise that the right of choice should be left to her----” “Yes, he told me,” I interrupted. “But he did not tell you that she fled?” “Fled!” I repeated. “Then that is the reason she is not here.”