His colonel had told him only the
day before that Miss Redmond was
one of the richest American heiresses,
and there was a question of a duke or
a prince and heaven only knew what
iu the way of titles. As the marquise
moved away her progress was some
thing like the rolling of an elegant
velvet chair, and while his feelings
were still disturbed Miss Redmond
crossed the room to him. ' Before Sab
ron quite knew how they had been
able to escape the others or leave the
room, he was standing with her in the
winter garden where the sunlight
fame lu through trellises and the
perfume of the warmed plants was
heavy and sweet. Before them flowed
the Rhone, golden In the winter's light.
The blue river swept its waves around
old Tarascón and the battlements of
King Rene's towers.
"You are going to Algiers tomorrow.
