shimmer like that of water at evening. As she trod
this, with her face to the low sun, her tall grey figure had a pure air
that for the moment startled me--she looked unearthly. Then I swore
in scorn of myself, and at the next corner I had my reward. She was no
longer walking on. She had stopped, I found, and seated herself on a
fallen tree that lay in the ride.

For some time I stood in ambush watching her, and with each minute I
grew more impatient. At last I began to doubt--to have strange thoughts.
The green walls were growing dark. The sun was sinking; a sharp, white
peak, miles and miles away, which closed the vista of the ride, began
to flush and colour rosily. Finally, but not before I had had leisure to
grow uneasy, she stood up and walked on more slowly. I waited, as usual,
until the next turning hid her. Then I hastened after her, and, warily
passing round the corner came face to face with her!

I knew all in a moment saw all in a flash: that she had fooled me,
tricked me, lured me away. Her face was white with scorn, her eyes
blazed; her figure, as she confronted me, trembled with anger and
infinite contempt.

'You spy!' she cried. 'You hound! You--gentleman! Oh, MON DIEU! if you
are one of us--if you are really not of the CANAILLE--we shall pay for
this some day! We shall pay a heavy reckoning in the time to come! I did
not think,' she continued, and her every syllable was like the lash of a
whip, 'that there was anything so vile as you in this world!'

I stammered something--I do not know what. Her words burned into
me--into my heart! Had she been a man, I would have struck her dead!

'You thought that you deceived me yesterday,' she continued, lowering
her tone, but with no lessening of the passion, the contempt, the
indignation, which curled her lip and gave fullness to her voice. 'You
plotter! You surface trickster! You thought it an easy task to delude
a woman--you find yourself deluded. God give you shame that you may
suffer!' she continued mercilessly. 'You talked of Clon, but Clon beside
you is the most spotless, the most honourable of men!'

'Madame,' I said hoarsely--and I know that my face was grey as
ashes--'let us understand one another.'

'God forbid!' she cried on the instant. 'I would not soil myself!'

'Fie! Madame,' I said, trembling. But then, you are a woman. That should
cost a man his life!'

She laughed bitterly.

'You say well,' she retorted. 'I am not a man--and if you are