self, exclaimed: "And this, that, and the
other, etc. Thus ended the adventure."

Mlle. Moriaz listened with an astonished air, not in the least
understanding these attacks of coughing and these interruptions, nor
divining the significance of the constant repetition of "this, that,
and the other, etc." Princess Gulof struck her as a very eccentric and
unpleasantly brusque person; she even suspected her of being slightly
deranged or at least rather crack-brained; yet she was pleased with
her for being present upon this especial occasion and sparing her a
_tete-a-tete_ with Mme. de Lorcy with its disagreeable explanations and
unpleasant discussions.

She remained nearly an hour, planted on a chair, watching with a sort of
stupor the turning of the fan of this word-mill, whose clapper kept up
such an incessant noise. After having criticised to her heart's content
her neighbours, including under that title emperors and grand-dukes,
and having abundantly multiplied the et ceteras, Princess Gulof suddenly
turned the conversation to physiology: this science, whose depths she
believed herself to have fathomed, was, in her estimation, the secret
of everything, the Alpha and Omega of human life. She exposed certain
materialistic views, making use of expressions that shocked the modest
and delicate ears of Mlle. Moriaz. The astonishment the latter had at
first experienced became now blended with horror and disgust; she judged
that her visit had lasted long enough, and she proceeded to beat a
retreat, which Mme. de Lorcy made no effort to prevent.

Upon arriving at Cormeilles, her carriage crossed with a young man on
horseback, who with his head bowed down allowed his animal full liberty
to take his own course. This young man trembled when a clear, soprano
voice, which he preferred to the most beautiful music in the world,
cried to him, "Where are you going, Camille?"

He bowed over his horse's neck, drew down his hat over his eyes, and
replied, "To Maisons."

"Do not go there. I have just left because there is a dreadful old woman
there who says horrid things." Then Mlle. Moriaz added, in a queenly
tone, "You cannot pass--you are my prisoner."

She obliged him to turn back; ten minutes later she had alighted from
her coupe, he had sprung from his saddle, and they were seated side by
side on a rustic bench.

A few days previous M. Langis had met M. Moriaz, who had complained
bitterly of being forsaken by him as well as by M