stone buildings on the Marne, where I was born. My father had beggared
us, but those buildings were left. I scorned my father's memory, but I
had strange pride in the name and place that had been his.

"I have thought over this matter by night and day," I replied slowly.
"I cannot send you to Montreal, for I cannot trust these men. If I
take you myself I shall lose six weeks out of the summer. Then it will
be too late to accomplish anything. No, I cannot afford so much time.
The summer is all too short as it is."

"You would marry me--marry me to get me out of the way--rather than
lose six weeks of time!"

I rose. "Spare your scorn, mademoiselle. This is no joust of wits. I
would sell everything--except the honor of my sword--rather than lose
six weeks of time."

"Then you have a mission?"

"A self-sent one, mademoiselle."

"But you can come again next year."

"Next year will be too late."

She threw out her hands. "Monsieur, try me. Let me travel with you as
a man. I will be a man. I will be Monsieur Starling in truth. Try me
once more."

I took her hand. "Mademoiselle, mademoiselle," I said, "think a