A look of pain crossed her face, and a hand trembled to her bosom, as if to ease a great throbbing of her heart.

These cannon shots and this shivering pennant brought back a scene at the four corners, years before.
Footsteps came over the hill: she knew them, and turned.
"Parpon!" she said, with a glad gesture.
Without a word he placed in her hand a bunch of violets that he carried.
She lifted them to her lips.

"What is it all ?" she asked, turning again to the Tricolor.
"Louis Napoleon enters the Tuileries," he answered.

"But ours was the son of the Great Emperor!" she said.

"Let us be going, Parpon: we will plats these on his grave." She pressed the violets to her heart.
"France would have loved him, as we did," said the dwarf, as they moved on.
"As we do," the blind girl answered softly.
Their figures against the setting sun took on a strange burnished radiance, so that they seemed as mystical pilgrims journeying into that golden haze, which veiled them in beyond the hill, as the Angelus sounded from the tower of the ancient church.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "VALMOND TO PONTIAC": Conquest not important enough to satisfy ambition Face flushed with a sort of pleasurable defiance Her sight was bounded by the little field where she strayed I was never good at catechism The blind tyranny of the just Touch of the fantastic, of the barbaric, in all genius Vanity is the bane of mankind Visions of the artistic temperament--delight and curse We are only children till we begin to make our dreams our life You cannot live long enough to atone for that impertinence.