Mountain and fell like a delicate silver veil before the face of the
valley.

As she looked, lost in a kind of dream, there floated up from the distant
tent the refrain she knew so well:

"Oh, say, where goes your love?
O gai, vine le roi!"

Her hand caught her bosom as if to stifle a sudden pain. That song had
been the keynote to her new life, and it seemed now as if it were also to
be the final benediction. All her spirit gathered itself up for a great
resolution: she would not yield to this invading weakness, this misery of
body and mind.

Some one drew out of the shadows and came towards her. It was Madame
Degardy. She had seen the sobbing figure inside the tent, but, with the
occasional wisdom of the foolish of this world, she had not been less
considerate than the children of light.

With brusque, kindly taps of her stick, she drove the girl to her own
tent, and bade her sleep: but sleep was not for Elise that night; and in
the grey dawn, while yet no one was stirring in the camp, she passed
slowly down the valley to her home.

Madame Chalice was greatly troubled also. Valmond's life was saved.
In three days he was on his feet, eager and ardent again, and preparing
to go to the village; but what would the end of it all be? She knew of
De la Riviere's intentions, and she foresaw a crisis. If Valmond were in
very truth a Napoleon, all might be well, though this crusade must close