, and there in the sweet, warm evening air, sat Francezka,
dressed in white, a book, her usual companion, in her hands. Madame
Riano had not yet appeared. As soon as Francezka saw us, she dropped
her book, and ran toward us merrily, like a child, a thin white scarf
floating cloudlike behind her.

I think she felt that Gaston perhaps had some cause for complaint of
her behavior at Radewitz, for never was woman kinder to a man than she
to him at that meeting. And as for myself, one would have thought
Babache, the Tatar prince, and native of the Marais, was the Crown
Prince of Prussia. She wished to know how my health was, and praised
and admired Count Saxe to my heart's content, and desired to know if I
was ready to desert his service for hers.

Thus, warming our hearts with her sweetness, Francezka took us back to
the rustic seats by the canal, where Madame Riano now awaited us.

As we had the good fortune to be favorites of that lady, we were well
received by her also. Gaston Cheverny was a prime favorite of hers,
having won her good will by many warm protestations of his devotion to
what she called the cause of England's rightful king; a devotion which
I think Gaston Cheverny very much exaggerated for purposes of his
own.

We spent a pleasant hour at supper. Old Peter directed the servants
who waited on us. The old man blushed under his tan and wrinkles when
I greeted him kindly. I saw that the story of his niece's disgrace was
ever present with him, and my presence recalled the fate of poor Lisa.
After supper, when the harvest moon was rising in pale beauty, and the
western sky glowed with gold and amber and green, we walked to the
Italian garden. The air of retirement and repose and distance of the
spot grew upon me. It seemed a place for sweet meditation. Francezka,
pointing to the sun dial, said to me:

"So far, it has had none but sunny hours to mark for me." She said
this with a little note of triumph in her voice; but what young girl
situated as Francezka Capello was, at this period of her life, could
have remained wholly undazzled?

Below us lay the lake, dark and solemn under the shadow of the
cedars.

"Listen," said Francezka; and listening, we heard that faint, sad
murmur of the water, that came, no one knew how.

We spent an hour sitting on the stone benches, under the yew and box
hedges, and watching the purple twilight enfold the landscape, as we
conversed. Francezka declared we must have some m