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Rh coolness, but he was very young, and this humiliation before his men was unendurable. He had to struggle for self-control and well nigh broke down.

"I give no parole," he said, his lips trembling.

"I respect your courage," said Pascal, with both dignity and feeling, "and I beg you to spare me the distress of resorting to the only alternative."

"Not the only alternative, by God," cried the officer desperately, and turning suddenly he hurled himself at the soldiers who stood between him and the door.

But they were tough campaigners, much too wary to be caught by surprise, and in an instant his sword was knocked out of his hand by a blow from a clubbed musket which disabled his arm and he found himself in the grip of those who knew how to hold him.

"I am very sorry, monsieur, but the fault is with you," said Pascal, and with a sign to the men he was led away. As he passed, Lucette met him, but he would not look at her, and hung his head that she might not see the traces of mortification in his face.

"I am sorry, monsieur," she said gently, "but I was fighting for those dearer to me than life."

"I do not fight with women, mademoiselle, and pardon your deceit."

"But you are hurt; let me bind your arm," she said solicitously, seeing that it dangled at his side.

He drew himself up and looked at her steadily as he replied—

"Thank you, mademoiselle; the wound to my arm is nothing, but you have killed my trust in the word of a beautiful woman," and he signed to the men in charge of him to take him on.

"I am sorry for him," she said to Pascal.

"He brought it on himself, the hot-headed young fool," was the reply.

"How brave you are, monsieur! I saw him rush at