he heat and thick air were beginning
to tell, "that I'd like to go outside and breathe a little fresh air."

"It is like a hothouse in here," said de Courcelles.

"It's but a step from this room to a little garden, where we can find
all the cool air we want."

"Then show the way," said Robert quickly. He was eager to escape from
the room, not alone for the sake of air, but because the place choked
him. After a period of excitement and mental intoxication the reaction
had come. The colors were growing dimmer, the perfume in the air turned
to poison, and he longed for the clean out-of-doors.

De Courcelles opened a small door and they stepped out. Robert did not
notice that Boucher instantly put down his cards and followed. Before
them was a grassy lawn with borders of rose bushes, and beyond, the vast
sweep of the hills, the river and the far shore showed dimly through the
dusk. The air, moved by a light wind, was crisp, fresh and pure, and, as
Robert breathed it deeply, he felt his head grow clear and cool. Several
men were walking in the garden. One of them was Jumonville, and the
others he did not know.

"A wonderful site and a wonderful view," said Robert.

"But from Montmartre in Paris one may see a far greater city," said
Boucher at his elbow.

Robert turned angrily upon him. He felt that the man, in some manner,
was pursuing him, and that he had stood enough.

"I did not speak to you, Monsieur Boucher," he said.

"But I spoke to you, my young sprig of a Bostonnais."

He spoke with truculence, and now de Courcelles did not interfere. The
others, hearing loud and harsh words, drew near. Jumonville came very
close and regarded Robert with great intentness, evidently curious to
see what he would do. The youth stared at Boucher in amazement, but he
exercised his utmost self-control.

"I know that you spoke to me, Monsieur Boucher," he said, "but as I do
not see any relevancy in your remarks I will ask you to excuse me. I
came here merely for the air with Colonel de Courcelles."

He turned away, expecting de Courcelles to resume the walk with him, but
the figure of the Frenchman stiffened and he did not move. All at once a
wind of hostility seemed to be blowing. Somewhere in the dusk, somebody
laughed lightly. Robert's face blazed, but he was still master of
himself.

"And so you would leave after speaking to me in a manner that is an
insult," sneered Boucher.

"You were the first to give an insult."