ent eyes.

"Oh no!" he answered, with a laugh. "I should not have been the same.
But you must not continue to stand there, mademoiselle; the wall is
unsafe."

She shrugged her shoulders and stood with half-averted face, looking
down at the vineyards which stretched away to the dunes by the river.
Her cheeks were oddly flushed.

"Your father sent me to say so," continued Loo, "and if he sees that you
take no heed he will come himself to learn why."

Juliette gave a curt laugh and climbed the declivity toward him. The
argument was, it seemed, a sound one. When she reached his level he made
a step or two along the path that ran round the enceinte--not toward the
house, however--but away from it. She accepted the tacit suggestion, not
tacitly, however.

"Shall we not go and tell papa we have returned without mishap?" she
amended, with a light laugh.

"No, mademoiselle," he answered. It was his turn to be grave now and she
glanced at him with a gleam of satisfaction beneath her lids. She was
not content with that, however, but wished to make him angry. So she
laughed again and they would have quarrelled if he had not kept his lips
firmly closed and looked straight in front of him.

They passed between the unfinished ruin known as the Italian house and
the rampart. The Italian house screened them from the windows of that
portion of the ancient stabling which the Marquis had made habitable
when he bought back the chateau of Gemosac from the descendant of an
adventurous republican to whom the estate had been awarded in the days
of the Terror. A walk of lime-trees bordered that part of the garden
which lies to the west of the Italian house, and no other part was
visible from where Juliette paused to watch the sun sink below the
distant horizon. Loo was walking a few paces behind her, and when she
stopped he stopped also. She sat down on the low wall, but he remained
standing.

Her profile, clear-cut and delicate with its short chin and beautifully
curved lips, its slightly aquiline nose and crisp hair rising in a bold
curve from her forehead, was outlined against the sky. He could see the
gleam of the western light in her eyes, which were half averted. While
she watched the sunset, he watched her with a puzzled expression about
his lips.

He remembered perhaps the Marquis's last words, that Juliette was only
a child. He knew that she could in all human calculation know nothing
of the world; that at least she could ha