reak down."

"Well, but you have always encouraged me to work!"

She noticed a faint suspicion in his expression and voice.

"I know. I've been too eager, too keen on the opera. I haven't realized
what a strain you are going through. But--it's just like a woman, I'm
afraid!--now I see another urging you on, I see plainly. It may be
jealousy--"

"You jealous of old Jernington!"

"I believe I am a tiny bit. But, apart really from that, you are looking
dreadful these last few days. When you asked Jernington to prolong his
visit I was horrified. You see, he's come to it all fresh. And then he's
not creating. That's the tiring work. It's all very well helping and
criticising."

"That's very true," Claude said.

He sighed heavily. She had told him that he was very tired, and he felt
that he was very tired.

"It is a great strain," he added.

"It has got to stop, Claude."

There was a little silence. Then she said:

"These extra months have made a great difference, haven't they?"

"Enormous."

"You've got on very far?"

"Farther than I had thought would be possible."

Her heart bounded. But she only said:

"There's a boat to Marseilles the day after to-morrow. Old Jernington is
going by it."

"Oh, but Charmian, we can't pack the dear old fellow--"

"The dear old fellow is going by that boat, Claudie."

"But what a tyrant you are!"

"I've been selfish. My keenness about your work has blinded me.
Jernington has made me see. We've been two slave-drivers. It can't go
on. If he could stay and be different--but he can't. He's a marvel of
learning, but he has only one subject--orchestration. You've got to
forget that for a little. So Jernington must go. Dear old boy! When I
see your pale cheeks and your burning eyes I--I--"

Tears came into her eyes. From beneath the trickster the woman arose.
Her own words touched her suddenly, made her understand how Claude had
sacrificed himself to his work, and so to her ambition. She got up and
turned away.

"Old Jernington shall go by the _Marechal Bugeaud_," she said, in a
voice that slightly shook.

And by the _Marechal Bugeaud_ old Jernington did go.

So ingeniously did Charmian manage things that he believed he went of
his own accord, indeed that it had been his "idea" to go. She told
Claude to leave it to her and not to say one word. Then she went to
Jernington, and began to talk of his extraordinary influence over her
husband. He soon pulled at his boots,