A young dog stood beside her, ready for a romp in the park.
Across the path sat her father, who was smiling, and who would
never smile again. How many times had her girlish fancy pictured
the son of that old man! How many times had she dreamed of him--
aye, prayed for him! The room grew dark, and she pressed her
hand over her heart. To her the future was empty indeed. There
was nothing left but the vague perfume of the past, the faint
incense of futile, childish dreams. To stand on the very
threshold of life, and yet to see no joy beyond! She struggled
against the sob which rose, and conquered it.
"To arms, Messieurs, to arms!" cried the prince, feverishly. "To
arms!"
The archbishop stepped forward and took the prince's hand in his
own.
"God wills all things," he said, sadly, "and perhaps he has
willed that your Highness should come too late!" And that
strange, habitual smile was gone--forever. No one could fathom
the true significance of this peculiar speech.
"But "aux armes" was taken up, and spread throughout the city.
CHAPTER XXV
THE FORTUNES OF WAR
War! The whole city was in tumult.
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