magination, and give rise
to so many poetic legends. When Monsieur de Lucan was able once more to
see Julia, she had alighted from her horse. The admirably trained animal
stood quietly two or three steps away, browsing the young foliage, while
his mistress, down on her knees and stooping over the edge of the spring,
was drinking from her hands.

"Julia, I beg of you!" exclaimed Monsieur de Lucan in an imploring tone.

She started to her feet with a sort of elastic spring, and greeted him
gayly.

"Too late, sir!" she said; "but I only drank a few drops, just a few
little wee drops, I assure you!"

"You must really be out of your mind!" said Lucan who was by this time
quite close to her.

"Do you think so?"

She was shaking her beautiful white hands, which had served her for a
drinking-cup, and which seemed to throw off a shower of diamonds.

"Give me your handkerchief!"

Lucan handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her hands gravely; then, as
she returned the handkerchief with her right hand, she raised herself on
tiptoe and held her left hand up to the level of his face:

"There! now; don't scold any more!"

Lucan kissed the hand.

"The other now," she said again. "Please don't turn so pale, sir!"

Monsieur Lucan affected not to have heard these last words, and came down
abruptly from his horse.

"I must help you to mount," he said, in a dry and harsh voice.

She was putting on her gloves with downcast look. Suddenly raising her
head and looking at him with fixed gaze:

"What a miserable wretch I am, am I not?" she said.

"No," said Lucan; "but what an unhappy being!"

She leaned against one of the trees that shaded the spring, her head
partially thrown back and one hand over her eyes.

"Come!" said Lucan.

She obeyed, and he assisted her to get on her horse. They rode out of the
wood without uttering another word, made their way to the road, and soon
overtook the cavalcade.

As soon as he had recovered from the anguish of that scene, Monsieur de
Lucan did not hesitate to think that the departure of Julia and of her
husband must be the immediate and inevitable consequence of it; but when
he came to seek some means of bringing about their sudden departure, his
mind became lost in difficulties that he could not solve. What motive
could he indeed offer to justify, in the eyes of Clotilde and of Monsieur
de Moras, a determination so novel and so unexpected? It was now the
middle of August, and it h