e morning."

"Then good-bye, mademoiselle. Should I never see you again---"

"Never see me again!" I interrupted. "Why, what do you mean?"

"I do not allude to your destinies, but to mine," he said, with a
kindly look. "My business may call me away from here before you come
back--our paths may lie apart--many circumstances may occur to prevent
our meeting--so that, I repeat, should I never see you again, you will,
I hope, bear me in your friendly remembrance as one who was sorry to
see you suffer, and who was the humble means of guiding you to renewed
health and happiness."

I held out my hand, and my eyes filled with tears. There was something
so gentle and chivalrous about him, and withal so warm and sympathetic,
that I felt indeed as if I were bidding adieu to one of the truest
friends I should ever have in my life.

"I hope nothing will cause you to leave Cannes till I return to it," I
said with real earnestness. "I should like you to judge of my
restoration to health."

"There will be no need for that," he replied; "I shall know when you
are quite recovered through Heliobas."

He pressed my hand warmly.

"I brought back the book you lent me," I went on; "but I should like a
copy of it for myself. Can I get it anywhere?"

"Heliobas will give you one with pleasure," replied Cellini; "you have
only to make the request. The book is not on sale. It was printed for
private circulation only. And now, mademoiselle, we part. I
congratulate you on the comfort and joy awaiting you in Paris. Do not
forget the address--Hotel Mars, Champs Elysees. Farewell!"

And again shaking my hand cordially, he stood at his door watching me
as I passed out and began to ascend the stairs leading to my room. On
the landing I paused, and, looking round, saw him still there. I smiled
and waved my hand. He did the same in response, once--twice; then
turning abruptly, disappeared.

That afternoon I explained to Colonel and Mrs. Everard that I had
resolved to consult a celebrated physician in Paris (whose name,
however, I did not mention), and should go there alone for a few days.
On hearing that I knew of a well-recommended ladies' Pension, they made
no objection to my arrangements, and they agreed to remain at the Hotel
de L---till I returned. I gave them no details of my plans, and of
course never mentioned Raffaello Cellini in connection with the matter.
A nervous and wretchedly agitated night made me more than ever
determined to