his own.

He went out upon the lake after the doctor's visit, and was landed at a
lonely point on the pleasant slope where the village of Saint-Innocent
is situated. The view from this promontory, as one may call it,
comprises the heights of Bugey with the Rhone flowing at their foot,
and the end of the lake; but Raphael liked to look at the opposite
shore from thence, at the melancholy looking Abbey of Haute-Combe, the
burying-place of the Sardinian kings, who lie prostrate there before the
hills, like pilgrims come at last to their journey's end. The silence of
the landscape was broken by the even rhythm of the strokes of the oar;
it seemed to find a voice for the place, in monotonous cadences like the
chanting of monks. The Marquis was surprised to find visitors to this
usually lonely part of the lake; and as he mused, he watched the people
seated in the boat, and recognized in the stern the elderly lady who had
spoken so harshly to him the evening before.

No one took any notice of Raphael as the boat passed, except the elderly
lady's companion, a poor old maid of noble family, who bowed to him,
and whom it seemed to him that he saw for the first time. A few seconds
later he had already forgotten the visitors, who had rapidly disappeared
behind the promontory, when he heard the fluttering of a dress and the
sound of light footsteps not far from him. He turned about and saw the
companion; and, guessing from her embarrassed manner that she wished to
speak with him, he walked towards her.

She was somewhere about thirty-six years of age, thin and tall, reserved
and prim, and, like all old maids, seemed puzzled to know which way to
look, an expression no longer in keeping with her measured, springless,
and hesitating steps. She was both young and old at the same time, and,
by a certain dignity in her carriage, showed the high value which she
set upon her charms and perfections. In addition, her movements were
all demure and discreet, like those of women who are accustomed to take
great care of themselves, no doubt because they desire not to be cheated
of love, their destined end.

"Your life is in danger, sir; do not come to the Club again!" she said,
stepping back a pace or two from Raphael, as if her reputation had
already been compromised.

"But, mademoiselle," said Raphael, smiling, "please explain yourself
more clearly, since you have condescended so far----"

"Ah," she answered, "unless I had had a very stro