"Some of its pleasures," Von Behrling repeated, a little gloomily.
"Ah, that is easy enough for you, Mademoiselle!"

"Not so easy as it may appear," she answered. "One needs many
things to get the best out of life. One needs wealth and one needs
love, and one needs them while one is young, while one can enjoy."

"It is true," Von Behrling admitted, - "quite true."

"If one is not careful," she continued, "one lets the years slip by.
They can never come again. If one does not live while one is young,
there is no other chance."

Von Behrling assented with renewed gloom. He was twenty-five years
old, and his income barely paid for his uniforms. Of late, this
fact had materially interfered with his enjoyments.

"It is strange," he said, "that you should talk like this. You have
the world at your feet, Mademoiselle. You have only to throw the
handkerchief."

Her lips parted in a dazzling smile. The bluest eyes in the world
grew softer as they looked into his. Von Behrling felt his cheeks
burn.

"My friend, it is not so easy," she murmured. "Tell me," she
continued, "why it is that you have so little self-confidence. Is
it because you are poor?"

"I am a beggar," - bitterly.