and systematically ate too much," I said. "I am now
going to see if we cannot repair some of the harm that has been done."

"How?" asked the old man, with all the suspicion that had recently
come into his character.

"I am going to look for Miste."

He shook his head.

"Very quixotic, but quite useless," said he; and then set himself to
dissuade me from my quest with every argument that he could bring to
bear upon me. Some of these, indeed, I thought he might well have
omitted.

"We cannot spare you at this time, when the political world is so
disturbed, and internal affairs are on the brink of catastrophe. We
cannot spare you, I, the Vicomtesse--Lucille. It was only last night
that she was rejoicing at your presence with us in our time of
trouble. I shall tell her that you wish to leave us, and she will, I
am sure, dissuade you."

Which threat he carried out, as will be recorded later. I was,
however, fixed in my determination, and only gave way in so far as to
promise to return as soon as possible. These details are recorded thus
at length, as they are all links of a chain which pieced itself
together later in my life. Such links there are in the story of every
human existence, and no incident seems to stand quite alone.

After dinner that evening I went to my own study, leaving the Vicomte
to join the ladies in the drawing-room without me. So far as I was
able I had arranged during the last few days the affairs which had
been confidingly placed in my care, and desired to leave books and
papers in such a condition that a successor could at once take up the
thread of management.

The Vicomte was so disturbed at the mention of my departure that the
topic had been carefully avoided during dinner, though I make no doubt
that he knew my purpose in refusing to go to the drawing-room.

I was at work in my room--between the two tall candles--when the
rustle of a woman's dress in the open doorway made me look up. Lucille
had come into the room--her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. And I
knew, or thought I knew, her thoughts.

"My father tells me that you are going to leave us," she said in her
impetuous way.

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"I have come to ask you not to do so. You may--think what you like."

I did not look at her, but guessed the expression of her determined
lips.

"And you are too proud," I said, "to explain. You think that I, like a
schoolboy, am going off in a fit of wounded vanity--pleased to cau