at it might be a
dwelling of ghosts. There were nowhere any signs of the rooms being
used, the habitable air was absent. Everything was in perfect order.
There was no dust, none of the chilliness of disuse. Yet one seemed to
feel everywhere the sadness of places which exist only for their
history. One door only remained closed, and that Feurgeres unlocked with
a little key which hung from his chain. But he did not invite me to
enter.

"You will excuse me for a few moments," he said. "My housekeeper will
show you into the breakfast-room. Please do not wait for me."

An old lady, very primly dressed in black, and wearing a curious cap
with long white strings, bustled me away. As Feurgeres opened the door
of the room, in front of which we had been standing, the air seemed
instantly sweet with the perfume of flowers. The old lady sighed as she
poured me out some coffee. I am ashamed to say that I felt, and
doubtless I looked, curious.

"Would it not be as well for me to wait for Monsieur Feurgeres?" I
asked. "He will not be very long, I suppose?"

The old lady shook her head sadly.

"Ah! but one cannot say!" she answered. "Monsieur had better begin his
breakfast."

"Your master has perhaps someone waiting to see him?" I remarked.

Madame Tobain--she told me her name--shook her head once more. She spoke
softly, almost as though she were speaking of something sacred.

"Monsieur did not know, perhaps--it was the chamber of Madame. Always
Monsieur spends several hours a day there when he is in Paris, and
always after he has performed at the theatre he returns immediately to
sit there. No one else is allowed to enter; only I, when Monsieur is
away, am permitted once a day to fill it with fresh flowers--flowers
always the most expensive and rare. Ah, such devotion, and for the dead,
too! One finds it seldom, indeed! It is the great artists only who can
feel like that!"

She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, dropped me a curtsey,
and withdrew. Feurgeres came in presently, and I avoided looking at him
for the first few minutes. To tell the truth, there was a lump in my own
throat. When he spoke, however, his tone was as usual.

"I shall ask you," he said, "to stay indoors, but to be prepared to
start away at a moment's notice. I am going to make a few enquiries
myself."

His voice drew my eyes to his face, and I was astonished at his
appearance. The skin seemed tightly drawn about his cheeks, and he was
ve