bush. I could,
however, see into the room, and observed Diane stop near the table,
hesitate a little, and then sit down. Pechaud began to flutter around
her, but after a little she rose, and coming to the window looked
straight out at me. My spider had by this time vanished into the
petals of a half-open rose, and turning I met Diane's look, and lifted
my hat in formal greeting, remaining, however, where I was, as I was
determined to keep the position she had assigned to me.

"Monsieur Broussel!"

"Mademoiselle!" And now I stepped up to the window.

"Will you let me know when we start?"

"As soon as ever you are rested sufficiently, mademoiselle."

My tone was coldly polite, and there was equal indifference in her
voice.

"It is very good of you to say this; but now that I have decided to go
to Paris the sooner it is over the better."

"The horses are ready."

"Then, perhaps, we had better start."

"I am at your service, mademoiselle." And a quarter of an hour later
we were on our way once again. I did not take the direct road by
Chatellerault, but turned half westward, intending to enter Touraine by
way of Chinon, and then to follow the route by which I had come to
Poitiers.

It was a summer day, such as can only be met with in France. Overhead
billowy white clouds rolled and piled in the sapphire blue of the sky.
A wind, fresh and cool, blew from the west, sweeping over the plain,
hissing into the crests of the yellow broom and purple loosestrife, and
bending them into lines of colour that chased each other like waves
over the grey-green moorland. As we left the plain and came to the
undulating lands of northern Poitou, where the country twisted down to
the Bienne, the hedgerows, all glimmering in gold and green, and gay
with blossoming thorn, were awake with the song of the thrush and the
black-cap. We had passed Lencloitre on our left, and in that dip, dark
with walnut-trees, lay the little hamlet of Razines, which had so many
memories for me.

Up to now neither mademoiselle nor I had exchanged a word, as I rode
well in the rear of our party, sending Capus, who knew the country, to
lead us. Diane had so far kept her word, and rode behind Capus in
silence. At intervals I pushed a little to one side and watched her,
and now and again, as we came to a turn or a bend in the road, I saw
her full and fairly, but she never so much as glanced in my direction.
A little farther on we skirted some ris