at evening when the sun was dropping out of sight they started for the
city of Somerset's pilgrimage. Paula seated herself with her face toward
the western sky, watching from her window the broad red horizon, across
which moved thin poplars lopped to human shapes, like the walking forms
in Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. It was dark when the travellers drove into
Caen.

She still persisted in her wish to casually encounter Somerset in some
aisle, lady-chapel, or crypt to which he might have betaken himself to
copy and learn the secret of the great artists who had erected those
nooks. Mrs. Goodman was for discovering his inn, and calling upon him in
a straightforward way; but Paula seemed afraid of it, and they went out
in the morning on foot. First they searched the church of St. Sauveur;
he was not there; next the church of St. Jean; then the church of St.
Pierre; but he did not reveal himself, nor had any verger seen or heard
of such a man. Outside the latter church was a public flower-garden, and
she sat down to consider beside a round pool in which water-lilies grew
and gold-fish swam, near beds of fiery geraniums, dahlias, and verbenas
just past their bloom. Her enterprise had not been justified by its
results so far; but meditation still urged her to listen to the little
voice within and push on. She accordingly rejoined her aunt, and they
drove up the hill to the Abbaye aux Dames, the day by this time having
grown hot and oppressive.

The church seemed absolutely empty, the void being emphasized by its
grateful coolness. But on going towards the east end they perceived a
bald gentleman close to the screen, looking to the right and to the
left as if much perplexed. Paula merely glanced over him, his back being
toward her, and turning to her aunt said softly, 'I wonder how we get
into the choir?'

'That's just what I am wondering,' said the old gentleman, abruptly
facing round, and Paula discovered that the countenance was not
unfamiliar to her eye. Since knowing Somerset she had added to her
gallery of celebrities a photograph of his father, the Academician, and
he it was now who confronted her.

For the moment embarrassment, due to complicated feelings, brought a
slight blush to her cheek, but being well aware that he did not know
her, she answered, coolly enough, 'I suppose we must ask some one.'

'And we certainly would if there were any one to ask,' he said, still
looking eastward, and not much at her. 'I have