“Ay, but not of officers on foot.”

Rose gave her such a look, and for the first time this many a day spoke sternly to her, and asked her what on earth she had to do with uniforms or officers except one, the noblest in the world, her husband.

A month ago that word was almost indifferent to Josephine, or rather she uttered it with a sort of mild complacency.  Now she started at it, and it struck chill upon her.  She did not reply, however, and the carriage rolled on.

“He seemed to be dragging himself along.”  This was the first word Josephine had spoken for some time.  “Oh, did he?” replied Rose carelessly; “well, let him.  Here we are, at home.”

“I am glad of it,” said Josephine, “very glad.”

On reaching Beaurepaire she wanted to go up-stairs at once and put on her gray gown.  But the day was so delightful that Rose begged her to stroll in the Pleasaunce for half an hour and watch for their mother’s return.  She consented in an absent way, and presently began to walk very fast, unconscious of her companion.  Rose laid a hand upon her playfully to moderate her, and found her skin burning.

“Why, what is the matter?” said she, anxiously.

“Nothing, nothing,” was the sharp reply.

“There’s a fretful tone; and how excited you look, and feel too.  Well, I thought you were unnaturally calm after such an event.”

“I only saw his back,” said Josephine.  “Did not you see him?”

“See who?  Oh, that tiresome officer.  Why, how much more are we to hear about him?  I don’t believe there was one.”

At this moment a cocked hat came in sight, bobbing up and down above the palings that divided the park from the road.  Josephine pointed to it without a word.

Rose got a little cross at being practically confuted, and said coldly, “Come, let us go in; the only cocked hat we can see is on the way to Paris.”

Josephine assented eagerly.  But she had not taken two steps towards the house ere she altered her mind, and said she felt faint, she wanted air; no, she should stay out a little longer.  “Look, Rose,” said she, in a strangely excited way, “what a shame!  They put all manner of rubbish into this dear old tree:  I will have it all turned out.”  And she looked with feigned interest into the tree:  but her eyes seemed turned inward.

Rose gave a cry of surprise.  “He is waving his hat to me!  What on earth does that mean?”

“Perhaps he takes you for me,” said Josephine.

“Who is it?  What do you mean?”

“It is he!  I knew his figure at a glance.”  And she blushed and trembled with joy; she darted behind the tree and peered round at him unseen:  turning round a moment she found Rose at her back pale and stern.  She looked at her, and said with terrible simplicity, “Ah, Rose, I forgot.”

“Are you mad, Josephine?  Into the house this moment; if it is he, I will receive him and send him about his business.”