e within earshot of the
band, and there refused my proferred coin with the dignity of a
Hohenzollern. Under the tiny bridge there ran the shallowest and
clearest of little rivers. Up the white walls of the houses clambered a
deal of Virginia creeper, brought on by the rain, and now almost scarlet
in the strong sunlight. Presently at some gates there was a mark to pay,
or it may have been two; immediate admittance to an avenue of
fascinating shops, with an inner avenue of trees, little tables under
them, and the crash of the band growing louder at every yard. Eventual
access to a fine, broad terrace, a fine, long facade, a bandstand, and
people listening and walking up and down, people listening and drinking
beer or coffee at more little tables, people listening and reading on
rows of chairs, people standing to listen with all their ears; but not
for a long time the person I sought.

* * * * *

Not for a very long time, but yet, at last, and all alone, among the
readers on the chairs, deep in a Tauchnitz volume even here as in the
Alps; more daintily yet not less simply dressed, in pink muslin and a
big black hat; and blessed here as there with such blooming health, such
inimitable freshness, such a general air of well-being and of deep
content, as almost to disgust me after my whole week's search and my own
hourly qualms.

So I found Mrs. Lascelles in the end, and so I saw her until she looked
up and saw me; then the picture changed; but I am not going to describe
the change.

"Well, really!" she cried out.

"It has taken me all the week to find you," said I, as I replaced my
hat.

Her eyes flashed again.

"Has it, indeed! And now you have found me, aren't you satisfied? Pray
have a good look, Captain Clephane. You won't find anybody else!"

Her meaning dawned on me at last.

"I didn't expect to, Mrs. Lascelles."

"Am I to believe that?"

"You must do as you please. It is the truth. Mrs. Lascelles, I have been
all the week looking for you and you alone."

I spoke with some warmth, for not only did I speak the truth, but it had
become more and more the truth at every stage of my journey since
Brigues. Mrs. Lascelles leant back in her chair and surveyed me with
less anger, but with the purer and more pernicious scorn.

"And what business had you to do that?" she asked calmly. "How dare you,
I should like to know?"

"I dared," said I, "because I owed you a debt which, I fel