ith short steps, her
head down, with that manner assumed in talking very low, while
walking, of very intimate and very sweet things. As she advanced she
drew shapes in the sand, letters perhaps, with the point of her
sunshade, and she spoke, without looking at Saval, long, softly,
leaning on his arm, pressed against him.

Yvette suddenly fixed her eyes upon her, and a suspicion, rather a
feeling than a doubt, passed through her mind as a shadow of a cloud
driven by the wind passes over the ground.

The bell rang for breakfast. It was silent and almost gloomy. There
was a storm in the air. Great solid clouds rested upon the horizon,
mute and heavy, but charged with a tempest. As soon as they had
taken their coffee on the terrace, the Marquise asked:

"Well, darling, are you going to take a walk today with your friend
Servigny? It is a good time to enjoy the coolness under the trees."

Yvette gave her a quick glance.

"No, mamma, I am not going out to-day."

The Marquise appeared annoyed, and insisted. "Oh, go and take a
stroll, my child, it is excellent for you."

Then Yvette distinctly said: "No, mamma, I shall stay in the house
to-day, and you know very well why, because I told you the other
evening."

Madame Obardi gave it no further thought, preoccupied with the
thought of remaining alone with Saval. She blushed and was annoyed,
disturbed on her own account, not knowing how she could find a free
hour or two. She stammered:

"It is true. I was not thinking of it. I don't know where my head
is."

And Yvette taking up some embroidery, which she called "the public
safety," and at which she worked five or six times a year, on dull
days, seated herself on a low chair near her mother, while the two
young men, astride folding-chairs, smoked their cigars.

The hours passed in a languid conversation. The Marquise fidgety,
cast longing glances at Saval, seeking some pretext, some means, of
getting rid of her daughter. She finally realized that she would not
succeed, and not knowing what ruse to employ, she said to Servigny:
"You know, my dear Duke, that I am going to keep you both this
evening. To-morrow we shall breakfast at the Fournaise restaurant,
at Chaton."

He understood, smiled, and bowed: "I am at your orders, Marquise."

The day wore on slowly and painfully under the threatenings of the
storm. The hour for dinner gradually approached. The heavy sky was
filled with slow and heavy clouds. There was not