found any thing so wholesome? It was a year, too, since she had seen
any one who knew George. Naturally, she began to empty her heart,
which was full of him, to Lucy.

"I have not spoken English for months," she said, smiling over her
coffee. "It is a relief! And you are a friend of my son's, too?"

"No. A mere acquaintance," said Lucy, with reserve.

"No one could even see George and not understand how different he is
from other men."

"Oh! altogether different!" said Lucy. "Yes, you understand. And
there was that future before him--when his trouble came. Oh, I've
thought of it, and thought of it, until my head is tired! He fell
under that woman's influence, you see. It was like mesmerism, or the
voodoo curse that the negroes talk of. It came on me too. Why, there
was a time when I despised him. George!" Her eyes grew full of
horror. "I left him, to live my own life. He has staggered under his
burden alone, and I could have rid him of it. Now there are two of
them."

"Two of them?" said Lucy curiously.

"There is a baby--Pauline Felix's grandson. I beg your pardon, my
child, I ought not to have named her. She is not a person whom you
should ever hear of. He has them both,--George. He has that weight to
carry." She stood up. "That is why I am going to him. It must be
taken from him."

"You mean--a divorce?"

"I don't know--I can't think clearly. But God does such queer things!
There are millions of men in the world, and this curse falls
on--George!"

Lucy put her hands on the older woman's arms and seated her. "Mrs.
Waldeaux," she said, with decision, "you need sleep, or you would not
talk in that way. Lisa is not a curse. Nor a voodoo witch. She came
to your son instead of to any other man--because he chose her out from
all other women. He had seen them." She held her curly head erect.
"As he did choose her, he should make the best of her."

Frances looked at her as one awakened out of a dream. "You talk
sensibly, child. Perhaps you are right. But I must go. Ring for a
cab, please. No, I will wait in the station. Clara would argue and
lecture. I could not stand that to-night," with her old comical shrug.

Lucy's entreaties were vain.

But as the train rushed through the valley of the Isar that night,
Frances looked forward into the darkness with a nameless terror. "That
child was so healthy and sane," she said, "I wish I had stayed with her
longer."

CHAPTE