to pick and
choose.... If I ever save enough money for the voyage, perhaps you
would let me come, once in a long while, to pay my respects, madame?"

"Yes,... come, if you wish."

She said no more, nor did I. Presently Sylvia appeared with a peasant
woman, and the young countess went away, followed by the housekeeper
with her keys at her girdle.

I rose and walked to the window; then, nerveless and depressed, I went
out into the garden again to smoke a cigar.

The cat had disappeared; I traversed the garden, passed through the
side wicket, and found myself on the cliffs. Almost immediately I was
aware of a young girl, a child, seated on the rocks, her chin propped
on her hands, the sea-wind blowing her curly elf-locks across her
cheeks and eyes. A bundle tied in a handkerchief lay beside her; a cat
dozed in her lap, its sleek fur stirring in the wind.

"Jacqueline!" I said, gently.

She raised her head; the movement awakened the cat, who stood up in
her lap, stretching and yawning vigorously.

"I thought you were to sail from Lorient to-day?"

The cat stopped purring from her knees; the child rose, pushing back
her hair from her eyes with both hands.

"Where is Speed?" she asked, drowsily.

"Did you want to see him, Jacqueline?"

"That is why I returned."

"To see Speed?"

"Parbleu."

"And you are going to let the others sail without you?"

"Yes."

"And give up the circus forever, Jacqueline?"

"Y-es."

"Just because you want to see Speed?"

"Only for that."

She stood rubbing her eyes with her small fists, as though just
awakened.

"Oui," she said, without emotion, "c'est comme ca, m'sieu. Where
the heart is, happiness lies. I left the others at the city gate; I
said, 'Voyons, let us be reasonable, gentlemen. I am happy in your
circus; I am happy with Speed; I can be contented without your circus,
but I cannot be contented without Speed. Voila!'... and then I went."

"You walked back all the way from Lorient?"

"Bien sur! I have no carriage--I, Jacqueline." She stretched her slim
figure, raised her arms slowly, and yawned. "Pardon," she murmured,
"I have slept in the gorse--badly."

"Come into the garden," I said; "we can talk while you rest."

She thanked me tranquilly, picked up her bundle, and followed me with
a slight limp. The cat, tail up, came behind.

The young countess was standing at the window as we approached in
solemn single file along the path, and when she caught sigh