But she made no sign. He shot a look at her
and sullenly descended the terrace at his seigneur's heels.

Mademoiselle Diane's brow grew clear again as the sound of his
footsteps died away, and presently she faced John with a smile so gay
and frank that (although, quite involuntarily, he had been watching
her) the change startled him. There was something in this girl at
once innocently candid and curiously elusive; to begin with, he could
not decide whether to think of her as child or woman. Last night her
eyes had rested on him with a child's open wonder, and a minute ago
in Dominique's presence she had seemed to shrink close to her father
with a child's timidity. Now, gaily as she smiled, her bearing had
grown dignified and self-possessed.

"You are not to leave me, please, M. a Clive--seeing that I came
expressly to find you."

John lifted his hat with mock gravity. "You do me great honour,
mademoiselle. And Dominique?" he added. "Was he also coming in
search of me?"

She frowned, and turning towards a cannon in the embrasure behind
her, spread the white tunic carefully upon it. "Dominique Guyon is
tiresome," she said. "At times, as you have heard, he speaks with
too much freedom to my father; but it is the freedom of old service.
The Guyons have farmed Boisveyrac for our family since first the
Seigniory was built." She seemed about to say more, but checked
herself, and stood smoothing an arm of the tunic upon the gun.
"Ah, here is Felicite!" she exclaimed, as a stout middle-aged woman
came bustling along the terrace towards them. "You have kept me
waiting, Felicite. And, good heavens! what is that you carry?
Did I not tell you that I would get Jeremie to find me a tunic from
the stores? See, I have one already."

"But this is not from the stores, mademoiselle!" panted Felicite, as
she came to a halt. "It appears that monsieur brought his tunic with
him--Jeremie told me he had seen it hanging by his bed in the sick
ward--and here it is, see you!" She displayed it triumphantly,
spreading its skirts to the sunshine. "A trifle soiled! but it will
save us all the trouble in the world with the measurements--eh,
mademoiselle?"

Diane's eyes were on John's face. For a moment or two she did not
answer, but at length said slowly:

"Nevertheless you shall measure monsieur. Have you the tapes? Good:
give me one, with the blue chalk, and I will check off your
measurements."

She seated herself on