Vandeleur--only a word or two to guide me, only the name of my father,
if you will--and I shall be grateful and content."

"I will not attempt to deceive you," she replied. "I know who you are,
but I am not at liberty to say."

"Tell me, at least, that you have forgiven my presumption, and I shall
wait with all the patience I have," he said. "If I am not to know, I
must do without. It is cruel, but I can bear more upon a push. Only do
not add to my troubles the thought that I have made an enemy of you."

"You did only what was natural," she said, "and I have nothing to
forgive you. Farewell."

"Is it to be _farewell_?" he asked.

"Nay, that I do not know myself," she answered. "Farewell for the
present, if you like."

And with these words she was gone.

Francis returned to his lodging in a state of considerable commotion of
mind. He made the most trifling progress with his Euclid for that
forenoon, and was more often at the window than at his improvised
writing-table. But beyond seeing the return of Miss Vandeleur, and the
meeting between her and her father, who was smoking a Trichinopoli cigar
in the verandah, there was nothing notable in the neighbourhood of the
house with the green blinds before the time of the mid-day meal. The
young man hastily allayed his appetite in a neighbouring restaurant, and
returned with the speed of unallayed curiosity to the house in the Rue
Lepic. A mounted servant was leading a saddle-horse to and fro before
the garden wall; and the porter of Francis's lodging was smoking a pipe
against the door-post, absorbed in contemplation of the livery and the
steeds.

"Look!" he cried to the young man, "what fine cattle! what an elegant
costume! They belong to the brother of M. de Vandeleur, who is now
within upon a visit. He is a great man, a general, in your country; and
you doubtless know him well by reputation."

"I confess," returned Francis, "that I have never heard of General
Vandeleur before. We have many officers of that grade, and my pursuits
have been exclusively civil."

"It is he," replied the porter, "who lost the great diamond of the
Indies. Of that at least you must have read often in the papers."

As soon as Francis could disengage himself from the porter he ran
upstairs and hurried to the window. Immediately below the clear space in
the chestnut leaves, the two gentlemen were seated in conversation over
a cigar. The General, a red, military-looking man, offered som