The Bright Face of Danger. Robert Neilson Stephens

Blanche," etc.

       Prince Hagen.

       By Upton Sinclair author of "King Midas," etc.

       Earth's Enigmas.

       By Charles G. D. Roberts author of "The Kindred of the Wild," "The Heart of the Ancient Wood," etc.

       The Silent Maid.

       By Frederic W. Pangborn .

       The Golden Kingdom.

       By Andrew Balfour author of "Vengeance is Mine," "To Arms!" etc.

       The Promotion of the Admiral.

       By Morley Roberts author of "The Colossus," "The Fugitives," "Sons of Empire," etc.

       The Schemers.

       A Tale of Modern Life .

       By Edward F. Harkins author of "Little Pilgrimages Among the Men Who Have Written Famous Books," etc.

       The Captain's Wife.

       By W. Clark Russell author of "The Wreck of the Grosvenor," "The Mate of the Good Ship York,"' etc.

       The Story of the Foss River Ranch.

       By Ridgwell Cullom .

       The Interference of Patricia.

       By Lilian Bell author of "Hope Loring," "Abroad with the Jimmies," etc. With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T. Merrill.

       A Book Of Girls.

       By Lilian Bell author of "Hope Loring," "Abroad with the Jimmies," etc. With a frontispiece.

       Count Zarka.

       By Sir William Magnay author of "The Red Chancellor."

       The Golden Dwarf.

       By R. Norman Silver author of "A Daughter of Mystery," etc.

       Alain Tanger's Wife.

       By J. H. Yoxall author of "The Rommany Stone," etc.

       The Diary of a Year.

       Passages in the Life of a Woman of the World . Edited by Mrs. Charles H. E. Brookfield .

       The Red Triangle. Being some further chronicles of Martin Hewitt, investigator.

       By Arthur Morrison author of "The Hole in the Wall," "Tales of Mean Streets," etc.

       COMMONWEALTH SERIES No. 7.

       The Philadelphians

       As Seen by a New York Woman .

       By Katharine Bingham . (Pseud.)

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

MONSIEUR HENRI DE LAUNAY SETS OUT ON A JOURNEY

       Table of Contents

      If, on the first Tuesday in June, in the year 1608, anybody had asked me on what business I was riding towards Paris, and if I had answered, "To cut off the moustaches of a gentleman I have never seen, that I may toss them at the feet of a lady who has taunted me with that gentleman's superiorities,"—if I had made this reply, I should have been taken for the most foolish person on horseback in France that day. Yet the answer would have been true, though I accounted myself one of the wisest young gentlemen you might find in Anjou or any other province.

      I was, of a certainty, studious, and a lover of books. My father, the Sieur de la Tournoire, being a daring soldier, had so often put himself to perils inimical to my mother's peace of mind, that she had guided my inclinations in the peaceful direction of the library, hoping not to suffer for the son such alarms as she had undergone for the husband. I had grown up, therefore, a musing, bookish youth, rather shy and solitary in my habits: and this despite the care taken of my education in swordsmanship, riding, hunting, and other manly accomplishments, both by my father and by his old follower, Blaise Tripault. I acquired skill enough to satisfy these well-qualified instructors, but yet a volume of Plutarch or a book of poems was more to me than sword or dagger, horse, hound, or falcon. I was used to lonely walks and brookside meditations in the woods and meads of our estate of La Tournoire, in Anjou; and it came about that with my head full of verses I must needs think upon some lady with whom to fancy myself in love.

      Contiguity determined my choice. The next estate to ours, separated from it by a stream flowing into the Loir, had come into the possession of a rich family of bourgeois origin whom heaven had blessed (or burdened, as some would think) with a pretty daughter. Mlle. Celeste was a small, graceful, active creature, with a clear and well-coloured skin, and quick-glancing black eyes which gave me a pleasant inward stir the first time they rested on me. In my first acquaintance with this young lady, the black eyes seemed to enlarge and soften when they fell on me: she regarded me with what I took to be interest and approval: her face shone with friendliness, and her voice was kind. In this way I was led on.

      When she saw how far she had drawn me, her manner changed: she became whimsical, never the same for five minutes: