tion: here Maurice was irrevocably convinced that
it would be madness to resign his hard-won post without a struggle. For
that it would long remain empty, he did not for a moment delude himself.

They hardly exchanged a word during the remainder of the evening. His
mouth was dry. Carmen, and her gaudy fate, drove past him like the
phantasmagoria of a sleepless night.

When, the opera was over, and they stood waiting for the crowd to thin,
he scanned his companion's face with anxiety, to discover her mood.
With her hand on the wire ledge, Louise watched the slow fall of the
iron curtain. Her eyes were heavy; she still lived in what she had seen.

Her preoccupation continued as they crossed the square; her movements
were listless. Maurice's thoughts went back to a similar night, a year
ago, when, for the first time, he had walked at her side: it had been
just such a warm, lilac-scented night as this, and then, as now, he had
braced himself up to speak. At that time he had known her but slightly;
perhaps, for that very reason, he had been bolder in taking the plunge.

He turned and looked at her. Her face was averted: he could only see
the side of her cheek, and the clear-cut line of her chin.

"Are you tired, Louise?" he asked, and, in the protective tenderness of
his tone, her name sounded like a term of endearment.

She made a vague gesture, which might signify either yes or no.

"It was too hot for you up there, to-night," he went on. "Next time, I
shall take you a scat downstairs--as I've always wanted to." As she
still did not respond, he added, in a changed voice: "Altogether,
though, it will be better for you to get accustomed to going alone to
the theatre."

She turned at this, with an indolent curiosity. "Why?"

"Because--why, because it will soon be necessary. I'm going away."

He had made a beginning now, clumsily, and not as he had intended, but
it was made, and he would stand fast.

"You are going away?"

She said each word distinctly, as if she doubted her ears.

"Yes."

"Why, Maurice?"

"For several reasons. It's not a new decision. I've been thinking about
it for some time."

"Indeed? Then why choose just to-night to tell me?--you've had plenty
of other chances. And to-night I had enjoyed the theatre, and the
music, and coming out into the air ..."

"I'm sorry. But I've put it off too long as it is. I ought to have told
you before.--Louise ... you must see that things can't go on like t