hed defiantly.

"He is a gentleman, then?"

"Yes."

"Will he dislike _me_?"

"Perhaps I have used a wrong word. It is more disdain than dislike."

"Will he disdain me?"

M. Lorman replaced the papers in his pocket and looked with comic
gravity at her, as if to judge the effect she would be likely to have on
his friend. Then, his eyes twinkling with mischief, he answered
deliberately:

"Yes."

He took up his hat and stick and prepared to go.

"Eh bien," she retorted, "that is a challenge. You have found something
to occupy me. Adieu. Take care that my room faces the cathedral."

II.

Someone had gone out by the stage-door and the noise of the storm came
in along the low passage. The theatre was almost in darkness. Only
Monsieur Raoul and old Jacques Martin were there. In the shadow, as he
bent over his violin case, the younger man seemed tall and well-made;
but when he stood up, though he was tall, his bent shoulders became
apparent, and the light fell on a stern, pale face that seemed older
than its thirty years. He began to button his cloak around him.

"You might tell ma femme, Monsieur Raoul, that I shall be late. I must
prepare for to-morrow."

The old man and his wife kept house for Raoul, who was a bachelor.

"Assuredly I will tell her." Then Raoul went away.

The rain had ceased, but the scream of the wind sounded again and again.
The thin, weather-beaten trees bent low, like reeds; and heavy clouds,
suffused with moonlight, drove inland in rugged broken masses.

For a few moments Jacques lingered on; then he put out the lights,
locked up, drew his coat closer round his spare body, and hurried across
to the more cheerful shelter of the Cafe des Artistes.

In the Rue Louise the door of Raoul's house opened directly into the
kitchen. Madame Martin was sitting patiently by the fire, knitting. She
rose and took the violin case and wiped the raindrops from its
waterproof covering. Then she hung up Raoul's cloak.

"And Jacques, Monsieur?" she inquired.

"Jacques will be late. He bade me tell you, Julie."

"He is always late!"

"He has to prepare for Mademoiselle Elise, who comes to-morrow."

Raoul went to his room, and in a few moments Julie carried his supper up
to him there. Then, with the assurance of an old servant, she stood a
moment at the door, with her hands crossed before her.

"The new actress comes from Paris, Monsieur?"

"Yes."

"It will be a good thing."

"A very good t