into
spellbound sentinels.

"Here is the Castle!" said Blake. "Look! Even the waiters doze, until we
come to wake them!" He handed her to the ground, gave his orders to the
chauffeur, and as the cab disappeared into some unseen region, they
mounted the wide steps.

"Monsieur desires _dejeuner_?" A sleek waiter disengaged himself from
his brethren and came persuasively forward. At this early hour
everything at the Pre Catelan was soft and soothing; later in the day
things would alter, the service would be swift and unrestful, the swish
of motor-cars and the hum of voices would break the spell, but at this
hour of noon Paris, for some obscure reason, ignored the fruitful oasis
of the Bois, and peace lay upon it like balm.

"How charming! Oh, but how charming!" The exclamation was won from
Maxine as her glance skimmed the palms, the glittering glasses and the
white table-linen, and rested upon the spacious windows that convey the
fascinating impression that one whole wall of the room has been removed,
and that the ranged trees outside with their satiny green stems actually
commune with the _gourmet_ as he eats his meal.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Blake's pleasure in her pleasure was
patent. Every look, every gesture manifested it.

"It is wonderful!" she said, gently.

"Good! And now, what is the meal to be? Dragon's wings _en casserole_?
Or Moonbeams _surprise_?"

She laughed, and a flash of mischief stole through the glance she gave
him.

"What do you say, _mon ami_, to _poulet bonne femme_?"

She watched for a gleam of remembrance, but he was too engrossed in the
present to recall the trivialities of the past. He gave the order
without a thought save to do her will.

Delay was inevitable, and while the meal was in preparation they
wandered into the open and visited the farm at the rear of the
restaurant, conjuring the farm-like traditions of the place after the
accepted custom--entering the sweet-smelling, shadowy cow-shed, stroking
the sleek, soft-breathing cows, amusing themselves over the antics of
the monkey chained beside the door.

It was all very pleasant, the illusion of Arcadia was charmingly
rendered, and they returned, happy and hungry, in search of their meal.
That meal from its first morsel was raised above common things, for was
it not the first time Blake had broken bread with Maxine? And what true
lover ever forgets the rare moment when all the joys of intimacy are
foreshadowed in