his florist?'

"'On my word,' said the housekeeper, 'I do not know whether it will
be possible to tame him. He seems to have a horror of women. He is the
nephew of a Paris cure. I have seen the uncle but once; a fine old man
of sixty, very ugly, but very amiable. It is quite possible that this
priest encourages his nephew, as they say in the neighborhood, in his
love of flowers, that nothing worse may happen----'

"'Why--what?'

"'Well, your neighbor is a little cracked!' said Gobain, tapping her
head!

"Now a harmless lunatic is the only man whom no woman ever distrusts
in the matter of sentiment. You will see how wise the Count had been in
choosing this disguise for me.

"'What ails him then?' asked the Countess.

"'He has studied too hard,' replied Gobain; 'he has turned misanthropic.
And he has his reasons for disliking women--well, if you want to know
all that is said about him----'

"'Well,' said Honorine, 'madmen frighten me less than sane folks; I will
speak to him myself! Tell him that I beg him to come here. If I do not
succeed, I will send for the cure.'

"The day after this conversation, as I was walking along my graveled
path, I caught sight of the half-opened curtains on the first floor of
the little house, and of a woman's face curiously peeping out. Madame
Gobain called me. I hastily glanced at the Countess' house, and by a
rude shrug expressed, 'What do I care for your mistress!'

"'Madame,' said Gobain, called upon to give an account of her errand,
'the madman bid me leave him in peace, saying that even a charcoal
seller is master in his own premises, especially when he has no wife.'

"'He is perfectly right,' said the Countess.

"'Yes, but he ended by saying, "I will go," when I told him that he
would greatly distress a lady living in retirement, who found her
greatest solace in growing flowers.'

"Next day a signal from Gobain informed me that I was expected. After
the Countess' breakfast, when she was walking to and fro in front of
her house, I broke out some palings and went towards her. I had dressed
myself like a countryman, in an old pair of gray flannel trousers,
heavy wooden shoes, and shabby shooting coat, a peaked cap on my head,
a ragged bandana round my neck, hands soiled with mould, and a dibble in
my hand.

"'Madame,' said the housekeeper, 'this good man is your neighbor.'

"The Countess was not alarmed. I saw at last the woman whom her own
conduct and her husband's con