As a matter of fact Carlo's conscience had not been altogether easy concerning his neglect of Bianca since their days together at ChÂteau-Thierry. And certainly before those days he had reason to be grateful to Bianca and fond of her as well! Moreover, a little private talk with Sonya on this same subject, when Sonya had not spared his vanity, had quickened his resolution. Curious, Sonya had said, that the artist so seldom considers loyalty an essential trait of his own character when he demands so much loyalty from others! And yet one knows that without loyalty no human character has any real value!

Yet Carlo was not thinking of these ideas in detail when he and Bianca started out.

It was a February day with the faintest suggestion of spring in the damp, cold air.

Nevertheless, Bianca herself had chosen that they walk along the river bank, following a path until they reached the promenade which extended along a portion of the Rhine at Coblenz like the famous board walk of Atlantic City.

Holding tight to Carlo's hand, they slipped down the hill from behind the hospital until reaching this path.

But once on fairly level ground, Bianca deliberately removed her hand from her companion's and began walking sedately beside him several feet away.

"Why not walk as we have many times with my hand in your's to keep you from slipping, Bianca?" Carlo inquired with a teasing inflection in his voice and manner. "I thought you and I were kind of brother and sister. I don't want you sliding off into the water."

As Bianca made no answer, Carlo turned from her to look out over the river. Today the water was dark and muddy with a strong current flowing.

"Bianca," Carlo asked, "have you ever read the story of the Rheingold in the Ring of the Nibelung? One has had a horror of Germany for so long that one has preferred to forget German music. Yet since we arrived in Germany I have been reading the legends of the Rheingold and they seem to me to predict Germany's overthrow because of her materialism.

Carlo sang these few lines softly, forgetting his companion for the moment. Then he added half talking to her and half thinking aloud.

"I wonder if some day, I, the son of Italian parents, shall ever sing German music, if my hatred of Germany and antagonism to everything else that is German will allow me even to be willing to sing it. And yet I suppose there is no great tenor who has not at some time in his life longed to take the part of Siegfried, 'The curse can touch him not for he is pure, Love shineth on him and he knows not fear.'"

Carlo ceased speaking at last and in response Bianca gave a little sigh and then murmured.

"I wonder, Carlo, if you will ever learn to think or talk of any one except yourself?"

Bianca's reply was so unexpected that Carlo started and then stared at her, aggrieved and slightly irritated.

"But, Bianca, I thought that we were such intimate friends that I could talk to you about myself, and certainly of my musical ambitions. I am sorry my vanity has bored you."

The young girl shook her head.

"All persons possessed of any genius are supposed to be vain, aren't they, Carlo? I have known no other than you. But as for our being intimate friends, why, I do not feel that we are intimate friends any longer. After all, Carlo, I cannot give all the affection and it seems to me that is what you expect. When we first knew each other and I wanted to help you because I understood that you cared for Sonya in a way which she could not return, and afterwards when you were wounded and I tried to find you in ChÂteau-Thierry, I did not think or care, besides Sonya was Sonya! But now things are different."

For a few seconds Carlo studied the little cold, pure profile of the girl beside him. One had a habit of forgetting that Bianca was approaching eighteen, and then suddenly in some unexpected fashion she reminded you that she was by no means a child.

"I suppose you are referring to my friendship with Miss Thompson since our arrival in Coblenz, Bianca, or if not to our friendship at least to the fact that we have been dancing together nearly every afternoon when we both have leave. Can't you understand, Bianca, that it is sometimes pretty dull for one here in Coblenz now the excitement and thrill of the struggle for the allied victory is past? And now and then it seems to me I can scarcely endure waiting to return to the United States and begin to work again on my music. And yet one must prove as good a soldier at one time as another. Yet what is the harm in my amusing myself? I have thought Sonya also appeared disapproving of late. Miss Thompson is not only an extraordinary dancer, but she is most agreeable and——"

At this instant, having come to the end of the muddy path, Carlo and Bianca had reached the wide board walk which extended for some distance along the river. This afternoon it was as crowded with people as if Coblenz were enjoying a holiday instead of being a city occupied by a conquering army.

Observing his commanding officer, Major James Hersey, approaching, accompanied by Sergeant Donald Hackett, Carlo saluted and stood at attention. When they had gone past he turned once more to Bianca, his slight attack of bad temper having vanished.

"Not jealous, are you, Bee? You must realize that whatever friendships I may make, I shall always be fond of you."

If Carlo had been noticing his companion at this moment, he would have seen that Bianca flushed warmly at his condescension, and that she was extremely angry, and few people ever saw Bianca angry, not perhaps because she did not feel the emotion of anger, but because she possessed a rather remarkable self control.

"I don't think we will discuss the question of my being jealous, Carlo, you have scarcely the right to believe that I care for you enough for any such absurdity. I don't like Miss Thompson very much and neither does Sonya. Oh, there is no real reason for disliking her! But if you are under the impression that she likes you specially, Carlo, I think you are mistaken. She just likes to amuse herself too, and of course there is no harm in it."

Bianca's speech sounded perfectly childlike and yet perhaps she had a good deal of instinctive cleverness.

In any case Carlo felt annoyed.

"But suppose we don't talk personalities any more, Carlo," Bianca apologized almost immediately. "Naturally we can't always like the same people. I have never been able to get over my disappointment because the Countess Charlotta was not allowed to come with us to Coblenz. Sonya and I have nearly quarreled about her half a dozen times. And I suppose it is not alone that I am sorry for the Countess Charlotta, but because I do need a girl friend so dreadfully, Carlo. It seems strange doesn't it, and I am almost ashamed to speak of it, but I have never had a really intimate girl friend in my life. I suppose this may be partly due to the queer circumstances of my life. You see with my father dead and my mother an Italian peasant, who wished to make my life so different from her own that I was not allowed to associate even with her very closely, and then being brought up by a foster mother who did not encourage other girls to make friends with me, because she might have to tell them of my peculiar history, I suppose I did not have much of a chance for friendships with the kind of girls I would like to have known! Then I realize that I have not a very attractive disposition."

Bianca's little unconscious confession of loneliness had its instantaneous effect upon her companion.

"Don't be a goose, Bianca mia," Carlo answered, using an Italian phrase which he sometimes employed, recalling the bond of their first meeting in Italy several years before. "But who is this Countess Charlotta whom you desire to have with you here in Coblenz in order that you may continue your friendship?"

Just an instant Bianca appeared troubled and then her expression cleared.

"Perhaps I should not have spoken of the Countess Charlotta, not even to you, Carlo, only of course I know I can trust you. She was a young girl who was ill in our temporary hospital in Luxemburg. I thought of course she would write me, as she promised to write when we said goodby. But I have never had a line from her and neither has Sonya although Sonya and I have both written her since our arrival in Coblenz. I am afraid something must have occurred to prevent her writing and so I have been uneasy."

Bianca's speech was not especially clear, nevertheless Carlo listened sympathetically and asked no embarrassing questions.

A little time after they entered the famous Coblenzhof where Bianca had been invited to have tea.

It was crowded with people and looked like Sherry's on a Saturday afternoon.

Both Carlo and Bianca gazed around them in amazement.

The people were all comfortably, some of them almost handsomely dressed, even if with little taste, but this was usual in Germany. They were drinking coffee and eating little oatmeal cakes and appeared contented and serene, even without their famous "Deutsche kuchen."

"I sometimes wonder, Carlo," Bianca whispered, when they were seated at a small table in a corner, "if some of these people are not glad after all that the Kaiser has been defeated and that they are to have a new form of government and more personal freedom? They certainly seem to be glad the fighting is over. I suppose they had grown deadly tired of it and of being deceived by their leaders."

Carlo shook his head warningly.

"Be careful, Bianca. In spite of what you think there are still thousands of people in Coblenz faithful both to the Kaiser and his principles. Some of them may seem friendly to us, but the greater number are sullen and suspicious, regardless of the order that they are to appear as friendly as possible to our American troops. Yet somehow one can't help feeling as if there were plots against us of which we know nothing, just as there was in every allied country before the beginning of the war."

Carlo smiled.

"Here I am saying the very character of thing I asked you not to speak of, Bianca! By the way, do you suppose we know any people here? Let us look around and see."