man.

"When may I read this book, Eagle?"

"Never, of my free will, sire. How could I set down all I thought about
you, for instance, if the certainty was hanging over me that you would
read my candid opinions and punish me for them!"

"Then of what use is the key?"

"You would rather have it than give it to another, wouldn't you?"

"Decidedly."

"Well, you will have the key to my thoughts!"

"And if the book ever falls into my hands--"

"I will see that it doesn't!"

"I will say, years from now--"

"Twenty?"

"Twenty? O Eagle!"

"Ten."

"Months? That's too long!"

"No, ten years, sire."

"Not ten years, Eagle. Say eight."

"No, nine."

"Seven. If the book falls into my hands at the end of seven years, may I
open it?"

"I may safely promise you that," she laughed. "The book will never fall
into your hands."

I took from my pocket the gold snuffbox with the portraits on the lid,
and placed my key carefully therein. Eagle leaned forward to look at
them. She took the box in her hand, and gazed with long reverence,
drooping her head.

Young as I was, and unskilled in the ways of women, that key worked
magic comfort. She had given me a link to hold us together. The
inconsistent, contradictory being, old one instant with the wisdom of
the Saint-Michels, rippling full of unrestrained life the next, denying
me all hope, yet indefinitely tantalizing, was adorable beyond words. I
closed my eyes: the blinding sunshine struck them through the ivied
arch.

Turning my head as I opened them, I saw an old man come out on the
terrace.

He tried to search in every direction, his gray head and faded eyes
moving anxiously. Madame de Ferrier was still. I heard her lay the
snuffbox on the stone seat. I knew, though I could not let myself watch
her, that she stood up against the wall, a woman of stone, her lips
chiseled apart.

"Eagle--Eagle!" the old man cried from the terrace.

She whispered--"Yes, Cousin Philippe!"

XI

Swiftly as she passed between the tree columns, more swiftly her youth
and vitality died in that walk of a few yards.

We had been girl and boy together a brief half hour, heedless and gay.
When she reached the arbor end, our chapter of youth was ended.

I saw her bloodless face as she stepped upon the terrace.

The man stretched his arms to her. As if the blight of her spirit fell
upon him, the light died out of his face and he dropped his arms at his
sides.

He was a co