have loved you!"

CHAPTER XIII.

SOCIABLE CONVERSE.

The next morning Zara came herself to awaken me, looking as fresh and
lovely as a summer morning. She embraced me very tenderly, and said:

"I have been talking for more than an hour with Casimir. He has told me
everything. What wonders you have seen! And are you not happy, dearest?
Are you not strong and satisfied?"

"Perfectly!" I replied. "But, O Zara! what a pity that all the world
should not know what we know!"

"All have not a desire for knowledge," replied Zara. "Even in your
vision of the garden you possessed, there were only a few who still
sought you; for those few you would have done anything, but for the
others your best efforts were in vain."

"They might not have been always in vain," I said musingly.

"No, they might not," agreed Zara. "That is just the case of the world
to-day. While there is life in it, there is also hope. And talking of
the world, let me remind you that you are back in it now, and must
therefore be hampered with tiresome trivialities. Two of these are as
follows; First, here is a letter for you, which has just come;
secondly, breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes!"

I looked at her smiling face attentively. She was the very embodiment
of vigorous physical health and beauty; it seemed like a dream to
remember her in the past night, guarded by that invincible barrier, the
work of no mortal hand. I uttered nothing, however, of these thoughts,
and responding to her evident gaiety of heart, I smiled also.

"I will be down punctually at the expiration of the twenty minutes," I
said. "I assure you, Zara, I am quite sensible of the claims of earthly
existence upon me. For instance, I am very hungry, and I shall enjoy
breakfast immensely if you will make the coffee."

Zara, who among her other accomplishments had the secret of making
coffee to perfection, promised laughingly to make it extra well, and
flitted from the room, singing softly as she went a fragment of the
Neapolitan Stornello:

"Fior di mortelle
Queste manine tue son tanto belle!
Fior di limone
Ti voglio far morire di passione
Salta! lari--lira."

The letter Zara had brought me was from Mrs. Everard, announcing that
she would arrive in Paris that very day, Sunday.

"By the time you get this note," so ran her words, "we shall have
landed at the Grand Hotel. Come and see us at once, if you can. The
Colonel is anxious to judge for hims