refreshed and
strong again. When Florine came to inquire for my health she found me
busied about the packing. I greeted her kindly, for in truth my
gratitude was deep and sincere.

"Monsieur is preparing to leave?" she asked as if more than afraid of a
reply. I could see she had some purpose in the question.

"Yes, I leave Paris to-day."

"To-day?" she echoed.

"Yes, but I would return and find you again; I could not depart from
France without finding and thanking you for all your kindness. In
truth I am glad you came, for----." I tried to say more, but the words
left my lips sounding so cold and meaningless the sentence died away
incomplete.

Florine stood there, vaguely watching me as though she did not
understand.

"Leave France?" she repeated, her tone expressing the hope she had not
heard aright.

I had already said much more than I intended, for I was not fully aware
of Jerome's intentions, and desired to say nothing which would reveal
them.

"Leave France?" she urged again, "Monsieur--" she halted for the word
quite naturally.

"De Mouret," I supplied, and for the first time she knew my name;
surely it was little enough to trust one with who had given me my life.

"Monsieur de Mouret is to leave France?"

"Yes," I answered her truly, "but not to-day, possibly not for several
days. I would not go away without seeing you again."

I felt my tone become warmer as I thought of all this girl had risked
for me, and so blundered on uncertainly. What was I to do? What could
I offer her in repayment? Not gold; she had refused that with the air
of a grande marquise the night she first helped me from Bertrand's.

Heartily wishing for some of Jerome's finesse and tact, I gazed at her,
stupid and silent, watching the tears gather in her eyes. I could only
guess the thought which was passing in her mind, and even there I
wronged her.

"Oh, Monsieur!" she spoke as from the fullness of her heart, while her
voice trembled with excess of emotion, "Monsieur is going back into the
great world; Monsieur has honor and fair fame; I must return to the
wine shop."

The poor girl must have been wearied out with her watchings by my bed,
for she burst into such an uncontrollable weeping as I fain would have
prevented. I did my rough best at comfort, but had to let her sorrow
run its course.

"Oh, Monsieur, think of it! I must go back to that dreadful wine shop,
to the gaming tables; must continue to draw me