"That is because she is jealous of you!" said Lenaieff naively. "Jealous? And why?" said Zibeline, blushing. Visibly embarrassed, Henri drew out his watch in order to avert his countenance. "Midday!" he cried. "This is the hour for the return of the troops to their barracks. You would do well not to delay in starting for home, Mademoiselle. The roads will be very crowded, and your horses will not be able to trot. I beg your pardon for taking away your model, my dear Delorme, but I really must be off." "It is all the same to me; I have finished my sketch," said the painter, closing his portfolio. At this moment, as the military governor passed near them, on his way to the crossway of the Pyramid, Henri made a movement as if to rejoin him. "Do not disturb yourself, General de Prerolles," said the military governor. "The compliments which I have made you on the fine appearance of your troops are probably not so agreeable to you as those to which you are listening at present!" And saluting Mademoiselle de Vermont courteously, he went his way. "Now you are free, Henri. Suppose we accompany Mademoiselle back to Paris?" suggested Lenaieff, seeming to read his friend's mind. "What an honor for me!" Valentine exclaimed. The General made a sign to his orderly, who approached to receive his instructions. "Tell the brigadier-generals that I am about to depart. I need no more escort than two cavalrymen for General Lenaieff and myself. Now I am ready, Mademoiselle," Henri continued, turning toward Valentine. "If you will be guided by me, we should do well to reach the fortifications by way of the Lake of Saint-Mande." She made a little sound with her tongue, and the two cobs set off in the direction indicated, the crowds they passed stopping to admire their high action, and asking one another who was that pretty woman who was escorted by two generals, the one French, the other a foreigner. "I must look like a treaty of peace in a Franco-Russian alliance!" said Zibeline, gayly. The sun shone brightly, the new leaves were quivering on the trees, the breeze bore to the ear the echo of the military bands. Animated by the sound, the two cobs went ahead at a great pace, but they were kept well in hand by their mistress, who was dressed this morning in a simple navy-blue costume, with a small, oval, felt hat, ornamented with two white wings, set on in a manner that made the wearer resemble a valkyrie. Her whip, an unnecessary accessory, lay across the seat at her right, on which side of the carriage Henri rode. The General's eyes missed none of the graceful movements of the young girl. And his reflections regarding her, recently interrupted, returned in full force, augmenting still more his regret at the inexorable fate that separated him from her. "What a pity!" he thought in his turn, repeating unconsciously the phrase so often uttered by his sister.