n they arrived and
kept by herself, taking her meals at a little table with her oldest
child. This Russian, a Madame Saratoff, piqued Milly's curiosity, and
she soon became acquainted with her. One day when they happened to be
alone on the terrace, the Russian lady turned to her with a swift
smile,--

"You are American?" and when Milly admitted it, she added, "One can
always tell the American women from the English."

She spoke English easily, with the slightest sort of accent that merely
added distinction to whatever she said. Madame Saratoff was still young,
and though not a beautiful woman, had an air of privilege and breeding,
with something odd in the glitter of her eyes and the wolfish way in
which her curving upper lip revealed strong white teeth. She had a good
figure, as Milly had already recognized, and she dressed well, with
great simplicity. Milly felt interested in her, and the women talked for
an hour. Milly reported to her husband:--

"She's really a Baroness. Her husband is in the diplomatic service--off
in the east somewhere, and she's here alone with the children and her
maid. Don't you think she's interesting looking?"

The artist replied indifferently,--

"Not particularly--she has fine hands."

He seemed to have noticed that about her.

They quickly became better acquainted with Madame Saratoff, who, it
seemed, had been in Brittany before and knew the coast thoroughly. She
explained that the little hotel became unendurable later with the
_canaille des artistes_, and so she had rented an old _manoir_ in the
neighborhood, which was being put to rights for her. The next afternoon
the three walked to see the _manoir_ through a maze of little lanes. It
was a lovely old gray building with crumbling walls and had evidently
once been the seat of a considerable family. But only a half dozen rooms
were now habitable, and in the cracks of the great walls that surrounded
the garden thick roots of creepers twisted and curled upwards. From the
other end of the garden, through a break in the old hedge, there was a
glimpse of the sea, and in one corner was the ruin of a chapel
surmounted by an iron cross. Madame Saratoff showed them all the rooms,
into which men were putting some furniture she had bought in the
neighborhood--old _armoires_ and brass-bound chests of black oak as well
as some modern iron beds and dressing-tables. Milly admired the peaceful
gray _manoir_, and Bragdon observed as they retraced