rgrown, even in spring when trees had no curtains, that you were lost
as in a thousand mile forest. I camped there in a dry ravine, with
hemlock boughs under and over me, and next day rolled broken logs, and
cut poles and evergreens with my knife, to make a lodge.

It was boyish, unmannerly conduct; but the world had broken, to chaos
around me; and I set up the rough refuge with skill. Some books, my fish
line and knife, were always in the boat with me, as well as a box of
tinder. I could go to the shore, get a breakfast out of the water, and
cook it myself. Yet all that day I kept my fast, having no appetite.

Perhaps in the bottom of my heart I expected somebody to be sent after
me, bearing large inducements to return. We never can believe we are not
valuable to our fellows. Pierre or Jean, or some other servants in the
house, might perforce nose me out. I resolved to hide if such an envoy
approached and to have speech with nobody. We are more or less ashamed
of our secret wounds, and I was not going to have Pierre or Jean report
that I sat sulking in the woods on an island.

It was very probable that De Chaumont's household gave itself no trouble
about my disappearance. I sat on my hemlock floor until the gray of
twilight and studied Latin, keeping my mind on the text; save when a
squirrel ventured out and glided bushy trained and sinuous before me, or
the marble birches with ebony limbs, drew me to gloat on them. The white
birch is a woman and a goddess. I have associated her forever with that
afternoon. Her poor cousin the poplar, often so like her as to deceive
you until ashen bough and rounded leaf instruct the eye, always grows
near her like a protecting servant. The poor cousin rustles and fusses.
But my calm lady stands in perfect beauty, among pines straight as
candles, never tremulous, never trivial. All alabaster and ebony, she
glows from a distance; as, thinking of her, I saw another figure glow
through the loop-holes of the woods.

It was Madame de Ferrier.

VIII

A leap of the heart and dizziness shot through me and blurred my sight.
The reality of Madame de Ferrier's coming to seek me surpassed all
imaginings.

She walked with quick accustomed step, parting the second growth in her
way, having tracked me from the boat. Seeing my lodge in the ravine she
paused, her face changing as the lake changes; and caught her breath. I
stood exultant and ashamed down to the ground.

"Monsieur, what