"I am taking my revenge for my defeat on the ice," he replied, clasping her a little closer, in order to facilitate their movements.

"The prisoners you take must find it very difficult to escape from your hands," she said, with a touch of malice.

"Does that mean that already you wish to reclaim your liberty?"

"Not yet--unless you are fatigued."

"Fatigued! I should like to go thus to the end of the world!"

"And I, too," said Zibeline, simply.

By common consent the other waltzers had stopped, as much for the purpose of observing these two as for giving them more s.p.a.ce, while the wearied musicians sc.r.a.ped away as if it were a contest who should move the faster, themselves or the audacious couple.

"What a pity!" again said the d.u.c.h.ess to her husband, whose sole response was a shrug of his shoulders as he glanced at his brother-in-law.

At the end of his strength, and with a streaming brow, the gypsy leader lowered his bow, and the music ceased.

Henri de Prerolles, resuming his sang-froid, drew the hand of Mademoiselle de Vermont through his arm, and escorted her to her place among the other ladies.

"Bravo, General!" said Madame de Lisieux. "You have won your decoration, I see," she added, indicating the rosebud which adorned his b.u.t.tonhole.

"What shall we call this new order, ladies?" asked Madame de Nointel of the circle.

"The order of the Zibeline," Valentine replied, with a frank burst of laughter.

"What?--do you know--" stammered the author of the nickname, blushing up to her ears.

"Do not disturb yourself, Madame! The zibeline is a little animal which is becoming more and more rare. They never have been found at all in my country, which I regret," said Mademoiselle de Vermont graciously.

The hour was late, and the d.u.c.h.ess arose to depart. The Chevalier de Sainte-Foy, exercising his function as a sort of chamberlain, went to summon the domestics. Meanwhile Valentine spoke confidentially to Henri.

"General," said she, "I wish to ask a favor of you."

"I am at your orders, Mademoiselle."

"I am delighted with the success of this little dinner," Valentine continued, "and I wish to give another after Easter. My great desire is to have Mademoiselle Gontier--with whom I should like to become better acquainted--recite poetry to us after dinner. Would you have the kindness to tell her of my desire?"

"I!" exclaimed the General, amazed at such a request.

"Yes, certainly. If you ask her, she will come all the more willingly."

"You forget that I am not in the diplomatic service, Mademoiselle."

"My request annoys you? Well, we will say no more about it," said Zibeline. "I will charge Monsieur de Samoreau with the negotiations."

They rejoined the d.u.c.h.ess, Zibeline accompanying her to the vestibule, always evincing toward her the same pretty air of deference.

The drive home was silent. The Duke and the d.u.c.h.ess had agreed not to p.r.o.nounce the name of Mademoiselle de Vermont before Henri, who racked his brain without being able to guess what strange motive prompted the young girl to wish to enter into closer relations with the actress.

A letter from Eugenie was awaiting him. He read:

"Two weeks have elapsed since you have been to see me. I do not ask whether you love me still, but I do ask you, in case you love another, to tell me so frankly.

"ARIADNE."

"So I am summoned to the confessional, and am expected to accuse myself of that which I dare not avow even to my own heart! Never!" said Henri, crushing the note in his hand. "Besides, unless I deceive myself, Ariadne has not been slow in seeking a consoling divinity! Samoreau is at hand, it appears. He played the part of Plutus before; now he will a.s.sume that of Bacchus," thought the recreant lover, in order to smother his feeling of remorse.

CHAPTER XXII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

The life of General de Prerolles was uniformly regulated. He arose at dawn, and worked until the arrival of his courier; then he mounted his horse, attired in morning military costume.

After his ride, he visited the quartermaster-general of his division, received the report of his chief of staff, and gave necessary orders.

It was at this place, and never at the General's own dwelling, that the captains or subaltern officers presented themselves when they had occasion to speak to him.

At midday he returned to breakfast at the Hotel de Montgeron where, morning and evening, his plate was laid; and soon after this meal he retired to his own quarters to work with his orderly, whose duty it was to report to him regarding the numerous guns and pieces of heavy ordnance which make the object of much going and coming in military life.

After signing the usual number of doc.u.ments, the General would mount another of his horses, and at this hour would appear in civilian attire for an afternoon canter. After this second ride he would pa.s.s an hour at his club, but without ever touching a card, no matter what game was in progress.

He dined at different places, but oftenest with his sister, where by this time a studied silence was preserved on the subject of Zibeline.

This, however, did not prevent him from thinking of her more and more.

Mademoiselle de Vermont had not been seen again in the Bois de Boulogne since the night of her dinner, although Henri had sought in vain to meet her in the mornings in the bridle-path, and afternoons in the Avenue des Acacias.

He decided that probably she did not wish to ride during Holy Week; but when several days had pa.s.sed after Easter, and still she was not seen amusing herself in her usual fashion, he said to himself that perhaps it would be the proper thing to make what is called "a dinner-call."

There are some women whose fascination is so overwhelming as to cause the sanest of lovers to commit themselves, whence comes the slightly vulgar expression, "He has lost his bearings." Henri began to feel that he was in this state when he presented himself at Zibeline's home. A domestic informed him that Mademoiselle had been absent a week, but was expected home that evening. He left his card, regretting that he had not waited twenty-four hours more.

It was now the middle of April, the time when the military governor of Paris is accustomed to pa.s.s in review the troops stationed on the territory under his command, and this review was to take place the next morning.

The order for the mobilizing of his own division having been received and transmitted, Henri's evening was his own, and he resolved to pa.s.s it with Lenaieff, feeling certain that his colleague at least would speak to him of Zibeline.

The aide-de-camp general lived at the Hotel Continental, much frequented by Russians of distinction. Henri found his friend just dressing for dinner, and well disposed to accept his proposition.

As they descended the stairs, they pa.s.sed an imposing elderly man, with white moustache and imperial, still very erect in his long redingote with military b.u.t.tons--a perfect type of the German officer who gets himself up to look like the late Emperor William I. This officer and the French general stopped on the stairs, each eyeing the other without deciding whether he ought to salute or not, as often happens with people who think they recognize some one, but without being able to recall where or in what circ.u.mstances they have met before.

It was Henri whose memory was first revived.

"Captain, you are my prisoner!" he said, gayly, seizing the stranger by the collar.

"What! The Commandant de Prerolles!" cried the elderly man, in a reproachful tone, from which fifteen years had not removed the bitterness.

"I know who he is!" said Lenaieff. "Monsieur is your former jailer of the frontier fortress!"

The officer of the landwehr attempted to withdraw from the hand that held him.

"Oh, I don't intend to let you escape! You are coming to dine with us, and we will sign a treaty of peace over the dessert," said Henri, clasping the officer's hand affectionately.