were dozing on their seats. They
seemed to be keeping a funeral vigil round the hat of the defunct, a
magnificent grey hat, which proclaimed the arrival of spring as well
as the determination with which his memory was kept up by the Princess.
Paul was much annoyed by it; it was like meeting a rival. He did
not realise the difficulty which prevented Colette from escaping the
self-forged fetters of her custom. He was wondering angrily whether she
would expect him to breakfast in company with _him_, when the footman
who relieved him of his walking stick and hat informed him that the
Princess would receive him in the small drawing-room. He was shown at
once into the rotunda with its glass roof, a bower of exotic plants, and
was completely reassured by the sight of a little table with places
laid for two, the arrangement of which Madame de Rosen was herself
superintending.

'A fancy of mine,' she said, pointing to the table, 'when I saw how fine
it was. It will be almost like the country.'

She had spent the night considering how she could avoid sitting down
with this handsome young man in the presence of _his_ knife and fork,
and, not knowing what to say to the servants, had devised the plan of
abandoning the situation and ordering breakfast, as a sudden whim, 'in
the conservatory.'

Altogether the 'business' breakfast promised well. The _Romany blanc_
lay to keep cool in the rocky basin of the fountain, amidst ferns and
water plants, and the sun shone on the pieces of spar and on the bright
smooth green of the outspread leaves. The two young people sat opposite
one another, their knees almost touching: he quite self-possessed, his
light eyes cold and fiery; she all pink and white, her new growth of
hair, like a delicate wavy plumage, showing without any artificial
arrangement the shape of her little head. And while they talked on
indifferent topics, both concealing their real thoughts, young Astier
exulted each time that the silent servants opened the door of the
deserted dining-room, when he saw in the distance the napkin of the
departed, left for the first time cheerless and alone.

CHAPTER III.

From the Vicomte de Freydet

To Mademoiselle Germaine de Freydet,

Clos Jallanges, near Mousseaux, Loir et Cher.

My dear Sister,--I am going to give you a precise account of the way I
spend my time in Paris. I shall write every evening, and send you the
budget twice a week, as long