pire frock? And is that a helmet or a turban on her
head?"

"It depends," said Suzanne.

"How do you mean? What upon?"

"Yes, it depends upon my humour. When I'm good and sensible, she's
Minerva. When I look at her with a yearning heart, she becomes Venus.
And she is also, according to the mood of the moment, the goddess of
madness ... and the goddess of tears ... and the goddess of death."

She spoke with a playfulness that saddened Philippe. He asked:

"And what is she the goddess of to-day?"

"The goddess of farewell."

"Of farewell?"

"Yes, farewell to Suzanne Jorance, to the girl who has come here every
day, for the last five years, and who will never come here again."

She leant against the statue:

"My dear goddess, what dreams we two have had, you and I! We used to
wait together. For whom? For the Blue Bird ... for Prince Charming. The
prince was to arrive on horseback, one day, jump the garden-wall and
carry me off, slung across his saddle. He was to slip through the trees,
one evening, and go up the steps on his knees, sobbing. And all the vows
I made to my dear goddess! Just think, Philippe: I promised her never to
bring a man into her presence unless I loved him! And I kept my promise.
You are the first, Philippe."

He flushed red in the dark; and she continued, in a voice the gaiety of
which rang false:

"If you only knew how silly a girl is, dreaming and vowing things! Why,
I even promised her that that man and I should exchange our first kiss
before her. Isn't it ridiculous? Poor goddess! She will never see that
kiss of love; for, after all, I don't suppose you intend to kiss me?"

"Suzanne!"

"Well, did you? There's no reason why you should; and the whole thing's
absurd. So you will admit that this dear goddess has no sense and that
she deserves to be punished."

With a quick movement of the arm, she gave a push to the statue, which
fell to the ground and broke into halves.

"What are you doing?" he cried.

"Leave me alone ... leave me alone," said Suzanne, in an angry voice.

It was as though her action had loosed in her a long-contained fury and
wicked instincts which she was no longer able to control. She rushed
forwards and madly kicked and raged at the broken pieces of the statue.

He tried to interfere and took her by the arm. She turned upon him:

"I won't have you touch me!... It's your fault.... Let me go ... I hate
you!... Yes, it's all your fault!..."

And, releasing