mple, almost childish, love song in French. There was
nothing sensational about it, nothing risque, certainly nothing which
should have appealed to the frequenters of L'Abbaye. And her voice,
although sweet and clear and pure, was not extraordinary. And yet, when
she had finished, there was a perfect storm of "Bravos." Parasols waved,
flowers were thrown, and a roar of applause lasted for minutes. Why this
should have been is a puzzle to me even now. Perhaps it was because of
her clean, girlish beauty; perhaps because it was so unexpected and so
different; perhaps because of the mystery concerning her. I don't know.
Then I did not ask. I sat in my chair at the table, trembling from head
to foot, and looking at her. I had never expected to see her again and
now she was before my eyes--here in this place.

She sang again; this time a jolly little ballad of soldiers and glory
and the victory of the Tri-Color. And again she swept them off their
feet. She bowed and smiled in answer to their applause and, motioning
to the orchestra leader, began without accompaniment, "Loch Lomond," in
English. It was one of the songs I had asked her to sing at the rectory,
one I had found in the music cabinet, one that her mother and mine had
sung years before.

"Ye'll take the high road
And I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye--"

I was on my feet. I have no remembrance of having risen, but I was
standing, leaning across the table, looking at her. There were cries of
"Sit down" in English and other cries in French. There were tugs at my
coat tails.

"But me and my true love
Shall never meet again,
By the bonny, bonny banks
Of Loch--"

She saw me. The song stopped. I saw her turn white, so white that the
rouge on her cheeks looked like fever spots. She looked at me and I at
her. Then she raised her hand to her throat, turned and almost ran from
the room.

I should have followed her, then and there, I think. I was on my way
around the end of the table, regardless of masculine boots and feminine
skirts. But a stout Englishman got in my way and detained me and the
crowd was so dense that I could not push through it. It was an excited
crowd, too. For a moment there had been a surprised silence, but now
everyone was exclaiming and talking in his or her native language.

"Oh, I say! What happened? What made her do that?" demanded the stout
Englishman. Then he politely r