then
she began to cry. And when I asked her what she was crying for, she
explained that I oughtn't to have left her in doubt for so long; she
had been so unhappy from fear that I didn't "love her so." She was
quite unfemininely frank, you see. Oh, the ecstacy of that hour! The
ecstacy of our first kiss! From that time on it was "mon petit mari"
and "ma petite femme." The greatest joy in life for me, for us, was to
sit together, holding each other's hands, and repeating from time to
time, "J' t'aime tant, j' t'aime tant." Now and then we would vary it
with a fugue upon our names--"Helene!"--"Paul!"' He laughed.
'Children, with their total lack of humour, are the drollest of
created beings, aren't they?'

'Oh, I don't think it's droll. I know, all children have those
desperate love affairs. But they seem to me pathetic. How did it go
on?'

'Oh, for two or three years we lived in Paradise. There were no other
boys in the neighbourhood, so she was constant.'

'For three years? And then?'

'Then my grandmother died, and I was carried off to Paris. She
remained here. And so it ended.'

'And when did you meet her next? After you were grown up?'

'I have never met her since.'

'You must have followed her career with a special interest, though?'

'_Ah, quant a ca_!'

'Her marriage, her coronation, her divorce. Poor Woman! What she must
have suffered. Have you made any attempt to see her since you came
back to Saint-Graal?'

'_Ah, merci, non_! If she wanted to see me, she'd send for me.'

'She sees no one, everybody says. But I should think she'd like to see
you--her old playmate. If she _should_ send for you--But I suppose I
musn't ask you to tell me about it afterwards? Of course, like
everybody else in her neighbourhood, I'm awfully interested in her.'

There was a moment's silence. She looked at the moss beneath her, and
stroked it lightly with a finger-tip. Paul looked at her.

'You're horribly unkind,' he said at last.

'Unkind?' She raised wide eyes of innocent surprise.

'You know I'm in an agony of curiosity.'

'About what?'

'About you.'

'Me?'

'Yourself.'

She lifted the cluster of charms at the end of her watch-chain. One of
them was a tiny golden whistle. On this she blew, and Bezigue came
trotting up. She mounted him to-day without Paul's assistance. Smiling
down on the young man, she said, 'Oh, after the reckless way in which
I've cast the conventions to the winds, you really can't expe