."

"You never were in love, that is positive," returned the Councillor,
with a comically piteous expression. "You are as inexorable as Article
304 of the Penal Code!"

Philip de Sucy shuddered violently. Deep lines appeared in his broad
forehead, his face was overcast like the sky above them; but though
his features seemed to contract with the pain of an intolerably bitter
memory, no tears came to his eyes. Like all men of strong character, he
possessed the power of forcing his emotions down into some inner depth,
and, perhaps, like many reserved natures, he shrank from laying bare a
wound too deep for any words of human speech, and winced at the thought
of ridicule from those who do not care to understand. M. d'Albon was one
of those who are keenly sensitive by nature to the distress of others,
who feel at once the pain they have unwillingly given by some blunder.
He respected his friend's mood, rose to his feet, forgot his weariness,
and followed in silence, thoroughly annoyed with himself for having
touched on a wound that seemed not yet healed.

"Some day I will tell you my story," Philip said at last, wringing
his friend's hand, while he acknowledged his dumb repentance with a
heart-rending glance. "To-day I cannot."

They walked on in silence. As the Colonel's distress passed off the
Councillor's fatigue returned. Instinctively, or rather urged by
weariness, his eyes explored the depths of the forest around them; he
looked high and low among the trees, and gazed along the avenues, hoping
to discover some dwelling where he might ask for hospitality. They
reached a place where several roads met; and the Councillor, fancying
that he saw a thin film of smoke rising through the trees, made a stand
and looked sharply about him. He caught a glimpse of the dark green
branches of some firs among the other forest trees, and finally, "A
house! a house!" he shouted. No sailor could have raised a cry of "Land
ahead!" more joyfully than he.

He plunged at once into undergrowth, somewhat of the thickest; and the
Colonel, who had fallen into deep musings, followed him unheedingly.

"I would rather have an omelette here and home-made bread, and a chair
to sit down in, than go further for a sofa, truffles, and Bordeaux wine
at Cassan."

This outburst of enthusiasm on the Councillor's part was caused by the
sight of the whitened wall of a house in the distance, standing out in
strong contrast against the brown masses of kno