centuries ago.

In the sun a fragrance grew--the subtle incense from her gown--perhaps
from her hair.

"Autumn is already gone; we are close to winter," she said, under her
breath. "See, there is nothing left--scarcely a blossom--a rose or
two; but the first frost will scatter the petals. Look at the pinks;
look at the dead leaves. Ah, tristesse, tristesse! The life of summer
is too short; the life of flowers is too short; so are our lives,
Monsieur Scarlett. Do you believe it?"

"Yes--now."

She was very still for a while, her head bent toward the sea. Then,
without turning: "Have you not always believed it?"

"No, madame."

"Then ... why do you believe it ... now?"

"Because, since we have become friends, life seems pitiably short for
such a friendship."

She smiled without moving.

"That is a ... very beautiful ... compliment, monsieur."

"It owes its beauty to its truth, madame."

"And that reply is illogical," she said, turning to look at me with
brilliant eyes and a gay smile which emphasized the sensitive mouth's
faint droop. "Illogical, because truth is not always beautiful. As
example: you were very near to death yesterday. That is the truth, but
it is not beautiful at all."

"Ah, madame, it is you who are illogical," I said, laughing.

"I?" she cried. "Prove it!"

But I would not, spite of her challenge and bright mockery.

In that flash all of our comradeship returned, bringing with it
something new, which I dared not think was intimacy.

Yet constraint fell away like a curtain between us, and though she
dominated, and I was afraid lest I overstep limits which I myself had
set, the charm of her careless confidence, her pretty, undissembled
caprices, her pleasure in a delicately intimate badinage, gave me
something of a self-reliance, a freedom that I had not known in a
woman's presence for many years.

"We brought you here because we thought it was good for you," she
said, reverting maliciously to the theme that had at first embarrassed
her. "We were perfectly certain that you have always been unfit to
take care of yourself. Now we have the proofs."

"Mademoiselle Elven said that you harbored us only because you were
afraid of those bandits who have arrived in Paradise," I observed.

"Afraid!" she said, scornfully. "Oh, you are making fun of me now.
Indeed, when Mr. Buckhurst came last night I had my men conduct him to
the outer gate!"

"Did he come last night?" I asked, troubled.