"My good son," he said, "you
shall have a dozen." And Papa was better than his word, for he sent
thirteen. Gaston,' continued the ancient priest, laying a hand on the
listener's sleeve, 'had six friends in Rome, of whom I was one. He
resolved that the thirteenth bottle should be expended, and that he
would store the rest We assembled--ah! my son, we assembled. There were
little glasses of fair water handed round and cubes of bread like dice,
and we sipped and nibbled, that our palates might be clean. Then the
bottle was brought in with the tray of glasses, the right Rhine
wine-glasses of pale green, with the vine-leaves and grape-bunches
about the stem. And the bottle was opened, and---- You know your Scott?
Do you remember how the bottle of claret "parfumed ze apartment"? Oh, it
was so when that cork was drawn! Odours of flowers and old memories! It
was nectar when we came to taste it It was of the kingliest, the most
imperial.'

Paul filled the priest's glass again and replenished his own, but the
old man rose laughingly from the table.

'I am something of a poet,' he said, 'in my imaginations, but I do not
carry my fancies into practice. No more wine to-night.'

Paul pressed him, but the old gentleman was firm. He yielded to the
temptation of coffee and a cigar, and the two went on talking of trifles
for half an hour. Annette had long since risen from the table, and had
strolled to the far end of the room beyond the glowing stove. She had
thrown open a French window there, and had stood for some time looking
out upon the night when she called for Paul.

'Come here; I want to speak to you.'

Paul excused himself, and obeyed the summons. Beyond the French window
lay a little alcove, about which a barren but full-leaved vine was
trailed. The sky was still filled with a diffuse light, and the May
moon, pale as yet, was rising like a silver canoe above the edge of a
hill a mile away.

'Paul,' said Annette, 'I want to stay here. There's a sort of peace
about the place, and I should like to be here for a little while.'

'Well, dear,' he answered, 'there are worse places in the world.'

'No,' she whispered, drawing him down to her; 'I want to tell you
something.' With her arm about his neck, she breathed into his ear:
'There are only two of us, Paul; you must look out for a third.'

He turned her face to his, and he saw that her eyes were moist and that
her face was pale. The momentous thing had been prettily said,