mall head seen in retreating profile beneath the half-dropped
tulle of her veil, resting on it tenderly. This embrace, half disturbed
by the impatience of the horses, that kiss on which their reins became
confused, that passion which stalked in broad day through the Bois with
so great a contempt for public opinion, would have been enough to betray
the duke and Felicia, if the haughty and charming mein of the lady and
the aristocratic ease of her companion, his pallor slightly tinged with
colour as the result of his ride and of Jenkins's miraculous pearls, had
not already betrayed them.

It is not an extraordinary thing to meet Mora in the Bois on a Sunday.
Like his master, he loved to show himself to the Parisians, to advertise
his popularity with all sections of the public; and then the duchess
never accompanied him on that day, and he could make a halt quite at his
ease in that little villa of Saint-James, known to all Paris, whose red
towers, outlined among the trees schoolboys used to point out to each
other in whispers. But only a mad woman, a daring affronter of society
like this Felicia, could have dreamt of advertising herself like this,
with the loss of her reputation forever. A sound of hoofs dying away in
the distance, of shrubs brushed in passing; a few plants that had been
pressed down and were straightening themselves again; branches pushed
out of the way resuming their places--that was all that remained of the
apparition.

"You saw?" said Paul; speaking first.

She had seen, and she had understood, notwithstanding the candour of her
innocence, for a blush spread over her features, one of those feelings
of shame experienced for the faults of those we love.

"Poor Felicia!" she said in a low voice, pitying not only the unhappy
woman who had just passed them, but also him whom this defection must
have smitten to the very heart. The truth is that Paul de Gery had felt
no surprise at this meeting, which justified previous suspicions and the
instinctive aversion which he had felt for Felicia at their dinner some
days before. But he found it pleasant to be pitied by Aline, to feel the
compassion in that voice becoming more tender, in that arm leaning upon
his. Like children who pretend to be ill for the sake of the pleasure
of being fondled by their mother, he allowed his consoler to strive to
appease his grief, speaking to him of his brothers, of the Nabob, and
of his forthcoming trip to Tunis--a fine countr