de chambre_ from
the chateau with a note from Alice, which read:

DEAR FRIEND: It is lonely, this big house of mine. Do come
and dine with me at eight.
Hastily, A. de B.

Added to this was the beginning of a postscript crossed out.

Upon a leaf torn from my sketchbook I scribbled the answer:

GOOD DEAR CHARITABLE FRIEND: The House Abandoned is a
hollow mockery without Tanrade. I'll come gladly at eight.

And Suzette brought it out to the waiting _valet de chambre_ whom she
addressed respectfully as "monsieur," half on account of his
yellow-striped waistcoat and half because he was a Parisian.

Bravo, Alice! Here then was the opportunity I had been waiting for, and
I hugged myself over the fact. It was like the first ray of sunshine
breaking through a week of leaden sky. For a long time I paced back and
forth among the paths of the snug garden, past the roses and the
heliotrope down as far as the flaming geraniums and the hollyhocks and
the droning bees, and back again by way of some excellent salads and the
bed of artichokes, while I turned over in my mind and rehearsed to
myself all I intended to say to her.

Alice lonely! With a chateau, two automobiles, and all Paris at her
pretty feet! Ha! ha! The symptoms were excellent. The patient was doing
well. To-night would see her convalescent and happily on the road to
recovery. This once happy family of comrades should be no longer under
the strain of disunion, we should have another dinner soon and the House
Abandoned would ring with cheer as it had never rung before. Japanese
lanterns among the fruit-trees of the tangled garden, the courtyard full
of villagers, red and blue fire, skyrockets and congratulations, a
Normand dinner and a keg of good sound wine to wish a long and happy
life to both. There would be the same Tanrade again and the same Alice,
and they would be married by the cure in the little gray church with the
cracked bell, with the marquis and the marquise as notables in the front
pew. In my enthusiasm I saw it all.

* * * * *

The lane back of the House Abandoned shortens the way to the chateau by
half a kilometre. It was this lane that I entered at dusk by crawling
under the bars that divided it from the back pasture full of gnarled
apple-trees, under which half a dozen mild-eyed cows had settled
themselves for the night. They rose when they caught