in his fashion, as if it had been the hand of a man and not that of the
beautiful lady.

"You know I should like nothing better in the world--since you tell me
what you do," she answered.

"And the other man?" he asked her, with the same hinting of sharpness in
his tone. "Is that all settled?"

"Almost. Would you like me to tell you?"

"Only a little--please!"

His voice had dropped, and he spoke very quietly, which startlingly
caused me to realize what I was doing. I went out of hearing then, very
softly. Is it creible that I found myself trembling when I reached the
twilit piazza? It is true, and I knew that never, for one moment, since
that tragic, divine day of her pity, had I wholly despaired of beholding
her again; that in my most sorrowful time there had always been a
little, little morsel of certain knowledge that I should some day be
near her once more.

And now, so much was easily revealed to me: it was to see her that the
good Lambert R. Poor Jr., had come to Paris, preceding my patron; it was
he who had passed with her on the last day of my shame, and whom she had
addressed by his central name of Rufus, and it was to his hand that I
had restored her parasol.

I was to look upon her face at last--I knew it--and to speak with her.
Ah, yes, I did tremble! It was not because I feared she might recognize
her poor slave of the painted head-top, nor that Poor Jr. would tell
her. I knew him now too well to think he would do that, had I been even
that other of whom he had spoken, for he was a brave, good boy, that
Poor Jr. No, it was a trembling of another kind--something I do not know
how to explain to those who have not trembled in the same way; and I
came alone to my room in the hotel, still trembling a little and having
strange quickness of breathing in my chest.

I did not make any light; I did not wish it, for the precious darkness
of the Cathedral remained with me--magic darkness in which I beheld
floating clouds made of the dust of gold and vanishing melodies. Any
person who knows of these singular things comprehends how little of them
can be told; but to those people who do not know of them, it may appear
all great foolishness. Such people are either too young, and they must
wait, or too old--they have forgotten!

It was an hour afterward, and Poor Jr. had knocked twice at my door,
when I lighted the room and opened it to him. He came in, excitedly
flushed, and, instead of taking a chair, began