ap; and through the other half she had
wondered anxiously if the bird would come to-morrow, with excuses which
she might graciously accept. At last she had fallen asleep and dreamed
ecstatic dreams about diamond necklaces and thousand franc notes. When
the procession of three left the Beau Soliel on its way to the English
Church, strings of diamonds were still being drawn through
Mademoiselle's head, charming though wreathed with patent curling pins.

It was half past eleven when she was waked by the Comtesse ringing for
_petits pains_ and chocolate. A toilette was hastily made, without too
much time being wasted on water; and Mademoiselle,--all in black and
white this morning, like a _jeune fille_ in second mourning,--hurried
out to walk on the terrace at the fashionable hour. If she did not find
the truant there, she said to herself, she would go into the Casino; for
he was sure to be in one place or the other at this time of day, even
though it was Christmas.

She walked a little, but not much; for her high-heeled shoes were tight,
and made her feel even more annoyed with the world and everyone in
it--except herself--than she had been before she started. Presently she
sat down on one of the green benches, and arranged a "peace on earth,
goodwill to men" expression which pinched her lips almost as painfully
as her shoes pinched her toes. She wore it unremittingly, nevertheless,
even though many of the women who passed her, walking on the terrace,
were prettier and younger and better dressed than she, and--more
grievous still--were accompanied by agreeable looking men, while she sat
alone scarcely glanced at by the promenaders.

She had just begun to think that she had better try the Casino, when
down the steps from the upper terrace came three figures. There was
something familiar about them all, but to see them together made them
more than strange. Besides, the two she knew best were strange in
another way. Their habit was to be shabby, though neat; now, there was
no one on the terrace as beautifully dressed as this tall young woman
and the slim little girl. No, it couldn't be Madame Clifford and her
_petit choux_; and yet--and yet--as they came nearer, near enough for
Mademoiselle to recognise the man with them, she felt a horrid sensation
as if something which she called her heart were dropping out of her
bosom from sheer heaviness, leaving a vacuum.

[Illustration: They came nearer, near enough for Mademoiselle