hungrily into the lean
face confronting him, so sternly set. He thrust the paper into his
bosom, and then abruptly, convulsively, held out his hand. His son's
eyes asked a question.

"Let there be peace between us, in God's name," said the Marquis
thickly.

Pity stirred at last in Andre-Louis. Some of the sternness left his
face. He sighed. "Good-bye, monsieur," he said.

"You are hard," his father told him, speaking wistfully. "But perhaps
you are in the right so to be. In other circumstances I should have been
proud to have owned you as my son. As it is..." He broke off abruptly,
and as abruptly added, "Good-bye."

He loosed his son's hand and stepped back. They bowed formally to each
other. And then M. de La Tour d'Azyr bowed to Mlle. de Kercadiou in
utter silence, a bow that contained something of utter renunciation, of
finality.

That done he turned and walked stiffly out of the room, and so out of
all their lives. Months later they were to hear of him in the service of
the Emperor of Austria.

CHAPTER XVI. SUNRISE

Andre-Louis took the air next morning on the terrace at Meudon. The hour
was very early, and the newly risen sun was transmuting into diamonds
the dewdrops that still lingered on the lawn. Down in the valley, five
miles away, the morning mists were rising over Paris. Yet early as it
was that house on the hill was astir already, in a bustle of preparation
for the departure that was imminent.

Andre-Louis had won safely out of Paris last night with his mother and
Aline, and to-day they were to set out all of them for Coblenz.

To Andre-Louis, sauntering there with hands clasped behind him and head
hunched between his shoulders--for life had never been richer in material
for reflection--came presently Aline through one of the glass doors from
the library.

"You're early astir," she greeted him.

"Faith, yes. I haven't been to bed. No," he assured her, in answer to
her exclamation. "I spent the night, or what was left of it, sitting at
the window thinking."

"My poor Andre!"

"You describe me perfectly. I am very poor--for I know nothing,
understand nothing. It is not a calamitous condition until it is
realized. Then..." He threw out his arms, and let them fall again. His
face she observed was very drawn and haggard.

She paced with him along the old granite balustrade over which the
geraniums flung their mantle of green and scarlet.

"Have you decided what you are going to do?