Having asked me to listen to your
protestations of love, you would now have me listen to your analysis of
my character. Go on."

"That is not a denial."

"Indeed!"

"D'Herouville called you 'Madame.'"

"Well?"

"What am I to believe?"

"What you will: one way or the other, I am equally indifferent." Ah,
Madame!

The Chevalier saw that if he became serious, violent, or ill-tempered,
he was lost. He pulled himself together. He smiled.

"Why are you not in Montreal? I understand Mademoiselle Catharine is
there."

The Chevalier laughed. "You make me laugh, Diane."

"Why are you here in Quebec?"

"And you, Madame?"

"Perhaps I was seeking adventures."

"Well, perhaps I, too, came with that purpose. Come, Madame; neither
of us is telling the truth."

"Begin, then, Monsieur; set an example for me."

The lines in his face deepened. All the pain of the tragedy came back.
"Tell Monsieur le Comte for me that I am sleeping and may not be
disturbed!" He struggled and cast aside the gloom.

"I have been accused of conspiracy, Madame."

"Conspiring?"

"Yes; for my happiness."

Madame was plainly disappointed.

"I was exiled from court upon a grave accusation."

"You were recalled, and all your honors restored."

"Since you know all, Madame, it is needless to explain. What most
concerns me this morning is your belief that I love you."

"Listen: there's the oriole."

"How about Madame Oriole; does she regret the lover of last year?"

"Very good, Monsieur. You are daily recovering your wit. And you used
to be very witty when you were not making extravagant love."

"A man does not weep when he loves and the object of his love simulates
kindness."

"I should like to test this love," reflectively.

"Test it, Diane; only test it!" He was all eagerness. He flung his
hat to the ground, and with his arm along the back of the seat he
leaned toward her. The heron feather remained unharmed; it was a
prophetic sign, only he did not realize it. He could realize nothing
save that the glorious beauty of her face was near, and that to-day
there was nothing else in the world. He was young, and youth forgets
overnight.

Madame, with the knuckle of a finger against her lips, posed as if
ruminating, when in truth she was turning over in her mind the
advisability of telling him all, laughing, and leaving him. And
suddenly she grew afraid. What would he do? for there was some latent
power in this m