tion of his ride, a sort of breath of morning air. And he
talked gaily of all those worldly things that seem to float every day
upon the autumnal awakening of brilliant and horse-loving Paris in the
avenues of the Bois. Annette was amused in listening to him, acquired
some taste for those topics of the days that he recounted to her, fresh
and piquant as they were. An intimacy of youth sprang up between them,
a pleasant companionship which a common and passionate love for horses
naturally fostered. When he had gone the Countess and the Count would
artfully praise him, saying everything necessary to let the young girl
know that it depended only upon herself to marry him if he pleased her.

She had understood very quickly, however, and reasoning frankly with
herself, judged it a very simple thing to take for a husband this
handsome fellow, who would give her, besides other satisfactions, that
which she preferred above all others, the pleasure of galloping beside
him every morning on a thoroughbred.

They found themselves betrothed one day, quite naturally, after a clasp
of the hand and a smile, and the marriage was spoken of as something
long decided. Then the Marquis began to bring gifts, and the Duchess
treated Annette like her own daughter. The whole affair, then, had been
fostered by common accord, warmed over the fire of a little intimacy,
during the quiet hours of the day; and the Marquis, having many other
occupations, relatives, obligations and duties, rarely came in the
evening.

That was Olivier's time. He dined regularly every week with his friends,
and also continued to appear without appointment to ask for a cup of tea
between ten o'clock and midnight.

As soon as he entered the Countess watched him, devoured by a desire to
know what was passing in his heart. He gave no glance, made no gesture
that she did not immediately interpret, and she was tortured by this
thought: "It is impossible that he is not in love with her, seeing us so
close together."

He, too, brought gifts. Not a week passed that he did not appear bearing
two little packages in his hands, offering one to the mother, the other
to the daughter; and the Countess, opening the boxes, which often held
valuable objects, felt again that contraction of the heart. She knew so
well that desire to give which, as a woman, she never had been able to
satisfy--that desire to bring something that would give pleasure,
to purchase for someone, to find in th