old valet admitted the young men, and took
them through a wide hall to the salon, which opened on the
garden. Madame and Mademoiselle would be down very soon. David
went to one of the long windows and looked out. "They have kept
it up, in spite of everything. It was always lovely here."

The garden was spacious,--like a little park. On one side was a
tennis court, on the other a fountain, with a pool and
water-lilies. The north wall was hidden by ancient yews; on the
south two rows of plane trees, cut square, made a long arbour. At
the back of the garden there were fine old lindens. The gravel
walks wound about beds of gorgeous autumn flowers; in the rose
garden, small white roses were still blooming, though the leaves
were already red.

Two ladies entered the drawing-room. The mother was short, plump,
and rosy, with strong, rather masculine features and yellowish
white hair. The tears flashed into her eyes as David bent to kiss
her hand, and she embraced him and touched both his cheeks with
her lips.

"Et vous, vous aussi!" she murmured, touching the coat of his
uniform with her fingers. There was but a moment of softness. She
gathered herself up like an old general, Claude thought, as he
stood watching the group from the window, drew her daughter
forward, and asked David whether he recognized the little girl
with whom he used to play. Mademoiselle Claire was not at all
like her mother; slender, dark, dressed in a white costume de
tennis and an apple green hat with black ribbons, she looked very
modern and casual and unconcerned. She was already telling David
she was glad he had arrived early, as now they would be able to
have a game of tennis before tea. Maman would bring her knitting
to the garden and watch them. This last suggestion relieved
Claude's apprehension that he might be left alone with his
hostess. When David called him and presented him to the ladies,
Mlle. Claire gave him a quick handshake, and said she would be
very glad to try him out on the court as soon as she had beaten
David. They would find tennis shoes in their room,--a collection
of shoes, for the feet of all nations; her brother's, some that
his Russian friend had forgotten when he hurried off to be
mobilized, and a pair lately left by an English officer who was
quartered on them. She and her mother would wait in the garden.
She rang for the old valet.

The Americans found themselves in a large room upstairs, where
two modern iron beds