my friend? I can only repeat what I said
at first. I think it strange that I have to learn of your projects from
General Lariviere."

He knew very well that she had not forgiven him; that she had remained
cold and reserved toward him. But he affected to think that she only
pouted.

"My dear, I have explained it to you. I have told you that when I
met Lariviere I had just received a letter from Caumont, recalling my
promise to hunt the fox in his woods, and I replied by return post. I
meant to tell you about it to-day. I am sorry that General Lariviere
told you first, but there was no significance in that."

Her arms were lifted like the handles of a vase. She turned toward him a
glance from her tranquil eyes, which he did not understand.

"Then you are going?"

"Next week, Tuesday or Wednesday. I shall be away only ten days at
most."

She put on her sealskin toque, ornamented with a branch of holly.

"Is it something that you can not postpone?"

"Oh, yes. Fox-skins would not be worth anything in a month. Moreover,
Caumont has invited good friends of mine, who would regret my absence."

Fixing her toque on her head with a long pin, she frowned.

"Is fox-hunting interesting?"

"Oh, yes, very. The fox has stratagems that one must fathom. The
intelligence of that animal is really marvellous. I have observed at
night a fox hunting a rabbit. He had organized a real hunt. I assure you
it is not easy to dislodge a fox. Caumont has an excellent cellar. I do
not care for it, but it is generally appreciated. I will bring you half
a dozen skins."

"What do you wish me to do with them?"

"Oh, you can make rugs of them."

"And you will be hunting eight days?"

"Not all the time. I shall visit my aunt, who expects me. Last year at
this time there was a delightful reunion at her house. She had with her
her two daughters and her three nieces with their husbands. All five
women are pretty, gay, charming, and irreproachable. I shall probably
find them at the beginning of next month, assembled for my aunt's
birthday, and I shall remain there two days."

"My friend, stay as long as it may please you. I should be inconsolable
if you shortened on my account a sojourn which is so agreeable."

"But you, Therese?"

"I, my friend? I can take care of myself."

The fire was languishing. The shadows were deepening between them. She
said, in a dreamy tone:

"It is true, however, that it is never prudent to leave a woman alon