here she had followed, lingering, to await the
return of her brother and lover, wondering why they had chosen so
tempestuous an hour and so black a spot to hold converse--if he had
known that a sudden flash of lightning had revealed to her sight
that short, sharp struggle as Victor was sinking under his hands,
he might have explained everything, and she--

I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear--there was
something besides her brother's disappearance between Grandemont's
pleadings for her hand and Adele's "yes." Ten years had passed, and
what she had seen during the space of that lightning flash remained
an indelible picture. She had loved her brother, but was she holding
out for the solution of that mystery or for the "Truth"? Women have
been known to reverence it, even as an abstract principle. It is
said there have been a few who, in the matter of their affections,
have considered a life to be a small thing as compared with a lie.
That I do not know. But, I wonder, had Grandemont cast himself at
her feet crying that his hand had sent Victor to the bottom of that
inscrutable river, and that he could no longer sully his love with a
lie, I wonder if--I wonder what she would have done!

But, Grandemont Charles, Arcadian little gentleman, never guessed
the meaning of that look in Adele's eyes; and from this last
bootless payment of his devoirs he rode away as rich as ever in
honour and love, but poor in hope.

That was in September. It was during the first winter month that
Grandemont conceived his idea of the _renaissance_. Since Adele
would never be his, and wealth without her were useless trumpery,
why need he add to that hoard of slowly harvested dollars? Why
should he even retain that hoard?

Hundreds were the cigarettes he consumed over his claret, sitting at
the little polished tables in the Royal street cafes while thinking
over his plan. By and by he had it perfect. It would cost, beyond
doubt, all the money he had, but--_le jeu vaut la chandelle_--for
some hours he would be once more a Charles of Charleroi. Once again
should the nineteenth of January, that most significant day in the
fortunes of the house of Charles, be fittingly observed. On that
date the French king had seated a Charles by his side at table;
on that date Armand Charles, Marquis de Brasse, landed, like a
brilliant meteor, in New Orleans; it was the date of his mother's
wedding; of Grandemont's birth. Since Grandemont could