on't want to discourage
you. I don't love you--yet. You have a chance--perhaps. Persevere,
Muscade, be devoted, ardent, submissive, full of little attentions
and considerations, docile to my slightest caprices, ready for
anything to please me, and we shall see--later."

"But, Mam'zelle, I would rather furnish all you demand afterward
than beforehand, if it be the same to you."

She asked with an artless air: "After what, Muscade?"

"After you have shown me that you love me, by Jove!"

"Well, act as if I loved you, and believe it, if you wish."

"But you--"

"Be quiet, Muscade; enough on the subject."

The sun had sunk behind the island, but the whole sky still flamed
like a fire, and the peaceful water of the river seemed changed to
blood. The reflections from the horizon reddened houses, objects,
and persons. The scarlet rose in the Marquise's hair had the
appearance of a splash of purple fallen from the clouds upon her
head.

As Yvette looked on from her end, the Marquise rested, as if by
carelessness, her bare hand upon Saval's hand; but the young girl
made a motion and the Marquise withdrew her hand with a quick
gesture, pretending to readjust something in the folds of her
corsage.

Servigny, who was looking at them, said:

"If you like, Mam'zelle, we will take a walk on the island after
dinner."

"Oh, yes! That will be delightful. We will go all alone, won't we,
Muscade?"

"Yes, all alone, Mam'zelle!"

The vast silence of the horizon, the sleepy tranquillity of the
evening captured heart, body, and voice. There are peaceful, chosen
hours when it becomes almost impossible to talk.

The servants waited on them noiselessly. The firmamental
conflagration faded away, and the soft night spread its shadows over
the earth.

"Are you going to stay long in this place?" asked Saval.

And the Marquise answered, dwelling on each word: "Yes, as long as I
am happy."

As it was too dark to see, lamps were brought. They cast upon the
table a strange, pale gleam beneath the great obscurity of space;
and very soon a shower of gnats fell upon the tablecloth--the tiny
gnats which immolate themselves by passing over the glass chimneys,
and, with wings and legs scorched, powder the table linen, dishes,
and cups with a kind of gray and hopping dust.

They swallowed them in the wine, they ate them in the sauces, they
saw them moving on the bread, and had their faces and hands tickled
by the countless swarm of the