urning energy, as if he
were nerving himself to a great feat, and the moment of action had
arrived. Mary watched him, in a sudden flash of curious interest, as if
she must at all costs see what he was going to do, and then make her
decision. This was a ridiculous idea, but she could not take her eyes
off the child, as the train slowly approached him on its way into the
station. He drew in a great breath, which empurpled the brown of his
face, and then emitted a single word, "As-cen-s-e-u-r!" in a singing
roar, into which he threw his whole soul, as a young tiger does. As the
train passed the boy, Mary, gazing out of the corridor window, looked
straight down the deep round tunnel that was his open mouth, and caught
his strained eye. He suddenly looked self-conscious, and broke into a
foolish yet pleasant smile. Mary smiled too, like a child, showing her
dimples. Then she knew that she would get out at Monte Carlo no matter
what happened.

At this instant, as the train stopped with a slight jerk, the attendant
in his neat brown uniform whisked past Mary into her compartment, to
snatch Miss Wardropp's bag and earn his fee. By this time the passengers
who were alighting at Monte Carlo had pressed down the corridor in a
procession, treading on each others' heels.

"If I should get out here, could I use my ticket afterward on to
Florence?" Mary hastily inquired in French. But whatever the answer
might be, her mind was obstinately set on the adventure she wanted.

"But yes, certainly, Mademoiselle," replied the man.

"Then will you take my bag, too, please?"

The porter's tired eyes dwelt on her for an instant understandingly,
sympathetically, even pityingly. Perhaps he had seen other passengers
make up their minds at the last minute to stop at Monte Carlo. He said
nothing, but seized the bag; and with her heart beating as if this
decision had changed the whole face of the world, Mary hurried after the
stout brown figure, and joined the end of the procession as it poured
from the _wagon lit_ on to the platform.

V

Mary followed the other people who had left the train. Lord and Lady
Dauntrey, with their party, were far ahead, and she could not have
spoken to them if she had wished, without running to catch them up; but
she did not wish to speak. She had taken no dislike to them; on the
contrary, she was interested, but she did not feel inclined to ask
advice, or attach herself to any one. She enjoyed the idea o