me
that none of Madame Beck's pupils are implicated in this business, I
shall be very happy to stand aloof from all interference. Take the
casket, the bouquet, and the billet; for my part, I gladly forget the
whole affair."

"Look there!" he whispered suddenly, as his hand closed on what I
offered, and at the same time he pointed through the boughs.

I looked. Behold Madame, in shawl, wrapping-gown, and slippers, softly
descending the steps, and stealing like a cat round the garden: in two
minutes she would have been upon Dr. John. If _she_ were like a cat,
however, _he_, quite as much, resembled a leopard: nothing could be
lighter than his tread when he chose. He watched, and as she turned a
corner, he took the garden at two noiseless bounds. She reappeared, and
he was gone. Rosine helped him, instantly interposing the door between
him and his huntress. I, too, might have got, away, but I preferred to
meet Madame openly.

Though it was my frequent and well-known custom to spend twilight in
the garden, yet, never till now, had I remained so late. Full sure was
I that Madame had missed--was come in search of me, and designed now to
pounce on the defaulter unawares. I expected a reprimand. No. Madame
was all goodness. She tendered not even a remonstrance; she testified
no shade of surprise. With that consummate tact of hers, in which I
believe she was never surpassed by living thing, she even professed
merely to have issued forth to taste "la brise du soir."

"Quelle belle nuit!" cried she, looking up at the stars--the moon was
now gone down behind the broad tower of Jean Baptiste. "Qu'il fait bon?
que l'air est frais!"

And, instead of sending me in, she detained me to take a few turns with
her down the principal alley. When at last we both re-entered, she
leaned affably on my shoulder by way of support in mounting the
front-door steps; at parting, her cheek was presented to my lips, and
"Bon soir, my bonne amie; dormez bien!" was her kindly adieu for the
night.

I caught myself smiling as I lay awake and thoughtful on my
couch--smiling at Madame. The unction, the suavity of her behaviour
offered, for one who knew her, a sure token that suspicion of some kind
was busy in her brain. From some aperture or summit of observation,
through parted bough or open window, she had doubtless caught a
glimpse, remote or near, deceptive or instructive, of that night's
transactions. Finely accomplished as she was in the art of