a prince of worthy fellows—even if a trifle disposed to jealousy. I have had much talk with him in the last few days."
She was silent a moment turning over a ring on her finger.
"I hope you will be happy also." Her voice was soft and low and trembled slightly.
"I am a soldier and love my colours. I have health and strength, a sound body and a modicum of wits, trust in myself and strong hope, and kindly memories to carry with me from Morvaix. Why should I not be happy?"
"Despite your bereavements?" And she smiled.
"Or perhaps because of them, Lucette."
"A double-edged sentence that, surely."
"And therefore best suited to the thought behind it."
She lifted her eyes and looked at him searchingly, and he met the look with an easy smile.
"I wonder what you mean?" she said, so earnestly that her tone was almost sad.
"Your wonder is not greater than my own," he laughed.
"In our worst troubles recently you laughed. You have a laugh for everything."
"The finest mask with which Nature ever fitted man or woman is a laugh, Lucette. Yes, I can laugh at my own follies and wishes and troubles and—aye, even at my own bereavements."
The gaiety of his tone was just as bright and free; and he continued to smile when Lucette again looked at him earnestly.
"Is that smile a mask, too? I would gladly know what is behind it," she said.
"I think I myself shall know better when, say, there are twenty leagues between Morvaix and me."
They stood looking one at the other a moment, and then Denys came out and joined them.
