ing away on the twelve-o'clock train tonight," she answered,
firmly.

"What has that got to do with it? Where did you see him?"

"In the box, while you were behind the scenes."

She told him all about it, and he listened in silent endeavor for the
ground of censure from which a sense of his own guilt forced him. She
asked suddenly, "Where did you see him?" and he told her in turn.

He added severely, "Her father ought to know. Why didn't you tell him?"

"Why didn't you?" she retorted with great reason.

"Because I didn't think he was just in the humor for it." He began to
laugh as he sketched their encounter with the gendarme, but she did not
seem to think it amusing; and he became serious again. "Besides, I was
afraid she was going to blubber, any way."

"She wouldn't have blubbered, as you call it. I don't know why you need
be so disgusting! It would have given her just the moral support she
needed. Now she will have to tell him herself, and he will blame us. You
ought to have spoken; you could have done it easily and naturally when
you came up with her. You will have yourself to thank for all the trouble
that comes of it, now, my dear."

He shouted in admiration of her skill in shifting the blame on him. "All
right! I should have had to stand it, even if you hadn't behaved with
angelic wisdom."

"Why," she said, after reflection, "I don't see what either of us has
done. We didn't get Burnamy to come here, or connive at his presence in
any way."

"Oh! Make Triscoe believe that! He knows you've done all you could to
help the affair on."

"Well, what if I have? He began making up to Mrs. Adding himself as soon
as he saw her, to-night. She looked very pretty."

"Well, thank Heaven! we're off to-morrow morning, and I hope we've seen
the last of them. They've done what they could to spoil my cure, but I'm
not going to have them spoil my aftercure."

XLIV.

Mrs. March had decided not to go to the Posthof for breakfast, where they
had already taken a lavish leave of the 'schone' Lili, with a sense of
being promptly superseded in her affections. They found a place in the
red-table-cloth end of the pavilion at Pupp's, and were served by the
pretty girl with the rose-bud mouth whom they had known only as
Ein-und-Zwanzig, and whose promise of "Komm' gleich, bitte schon!" was
like a bird's note. Never had the coffee been so good, the bread so
aerially light, the Westphalian ham so tenderly pink. A young mar