se it was
because he had some one, while I had no one, in this strange, hidden
fairyland like a secret orchard of jewelled fruits, that I felt suddenly
very sad.

He pointed out Castlebouc, a spellbound chateau on a towering crag that
held it up as if on a tall black finger, above a village which might
have fallen off a canvas by Gustave Dore. Farther on lay a strange place
called Prades, memorable for a huge buttress of rock exactly like the
carcass of a mammoth petrified and hanging on a wall. Then, farther on
still, over the black face of the rocks flashed a whiteness of waving
waters, pouring cascades like bridal veils whose lace was made of
mountain snows.

"Here we are at Ste. Enemie," said Mr. Dane. "Don't you remember about
her--'King Dagobert's daughter, ill-fated and fair to look upon?' Well,
at this village of hers we must either light our lamps or rest for the
night, which ever Sir Samuel--I mean her ladyship--decides."

So he stopped, in a little town which looked a place of fairy
enchantment under the moon. And as the song of the motor changed into
jogging prose with the putting on of the brakes, open flew the door of
an inn. Nothing could ever have looked half so attractive as the rosy
glow of the picture suddenly revealed. There was a miniature hall and a
quaint stairway--just an impressionist glimpse of both in play of
firelight and shadow. With all my might I willed Lady Turnour to want to
stay the night. The whole force of my mind pressed upon that part of her
"transformation" directly over the deciding-cells of her brain.

The chauffeur jumped down, and respectfully inquired the wishes of his
passengers. Would they remain here, if there were rooms to be had, and
take a boat in the morning to make the famous descent of the Tarn, while
the car went on to meet them at Le Rosier, at the end of the Gorge? Or
would they, in spite of the darkness, risk--

"We'll risk nothing," Lady Turnour promptly cut him short. "We've run
risks to-day till I feel as if I'd been in my grave and pulled out
again. No more for me, by dark, _thank_ you, if I have to sleep in the
car!"

"I hope your ladyship won't have to do that," returned my Fellow Worm,
alive though trodden under foot. "I have never spent a night in Ste.
Enemie, but I've lunched here, and the food is passable. I should think
the rooms would be clean, though rough--"

"I don't find this country attractive enough to pay us for any
hardships," said the