woman of your sort walling herself up in a wilderness,
renouncing the world, renouncing life itself in its very heyday--!"

"But hardly that, monsieur."

"Then I am stupid..."

"I will explain." The sleekly coiffured brown head bent low over hands
that played absently with their jewels. "To a woman of my sort,
monsieur, life is not life without love. I lived once for a little
time, then love was taken out of my life. When my sorrow had spent
itself, I knew that I must find love again if I were to go on living.
What was I to do? I knew that love is not found through seeking. So I
waited..."

"Such philosophy is rare, madame."

"Philosophy? No: I will not call it that. It was knowledge--the heart
wise in its own wisdom, surpassing mine, telling me that if I would but
be patient love would one day seek me out again, wherever I might wait,
and give me once more--life."

She rose and went to the window, paused there, turning back to Duchemin
a face composed but fairer for a deepened flush.

"But this is not writing to my bankers, monsieur," she said in a
changed but steady voice. "I must do that at once if I am to get the
letter in to-day's post."

"If madame will accept the advice of one not without some
experience..."

"What else does monsieur imagine I am doing?"

"Then you will write privately and burn your blotting paper; after
which you will post the letter with your own hands, letting nobody see
the address."

"And when shall I say I will make the journey?"

"As soon as your bankers can send their people to the Chateau de
Montalais."

"That will be in three days..."

"Or less."

"As soon as your bankers can send their people to the Chateau de
Montalais."

"That will be in three days..."

"Or less." "But you will not be strong enough to leave us within
another week."

"What has that to do--?"

"This: that I refuse positively to go away while you are our guest,
monsieur. Somebody must watch over you and see that you come to no
harm."

"But madame--!"

"No: I am quite resolved. Monsieur has too rare a genius for getting in
the way of danger. I shall not leave the chateau before you do. So I
shall set this day week for the date of my journey."

IX

BLIND MAN'S BUFF

In short, Monsieur Duchemin considered convalescence at the Chateau de
Montalais one of the most agreeable of human estates, and counted the
cost of admission thereunto by no means dear; and with all his grousing
(