e cannot recall her sentence. It rests with me to
understand her."

At that thought Gaston stopped short on the flight of steps with an
exclamation; he turned sharply, saying, "I have forgotten something,"
and went back to the salon. The lackey, all respect for a baron and the
rights of property, was completely deceived by the natural utterance,
and followed him. Gaston returned quietly and unannounced. The
Vicomtesse, thinking that the intruder was the servant, looked up and
beheld M. de Nueil.

"Jacques lighted me to the door," he said, with a half-sad smile which
dispelled any suspicion of jest in those words, while the tone in which
they were spoken went to the heart. Mme. de Beauseant was disarmed.

"Very well, take a seat," she said.

Gaston eagerly took possession of a chair. His eyes were shining with
happiness; the Vicomtesse, unable to endure the brilliant light in
them, looked down at the book. She was enjoying a delicious, ever new
sensation; the sense of a man's delight in her presence is an unfailing
feminine instinct. And then, besides, he had divined her, and a woman is
so grateful to the man who has mastered the apparently capricious, yet
logical, reasoning of her heart; who can track her thought through the
seemingly contradictory workings of her mind, and read the sensations,
shy or bold, written in fleeting red, a bewildering maze of coquetry and
self-revelation.

"Madame," Gaston exclaimed in a low voice, "my blunder you know, but
you do not know how much I am to blame. If you only knew what joy it was
to----"

"Ah! take care," she said, holding up one finger with an air of mystery,
as she put out her hand towards the bell.

The charming gesture, the gracious threat, no doubt called up some sad
thought, some memory of the old happy time when she could be wholly
charming and gentle without an afterthought; when the gladness of her
heart justified every caprice, and put charm into every least movement.
The lines in her forehead gathered between her brows, and the expression
of her face grew dark in the soft candle-light. Then looking across at
M. de Nueil gravely but not unkindly, she spoke like a woman who deeply
feels the meaning of every word.

"This is all very ridiculous! Once upon a time, monsieur, when
thoughtless high spirits were my privilege, I should have laughed
fearlessly over your visit with you. But now my life is very much
changed. I cannot do as I like, I am obliged to think