the post-mark, and read "Cannes." Having
opened it, he read:

"Villa Jolie, Cannes.

"DEAR SIR AND FRIEND,--You told me, did you not, that I could
reckon upon you for anything? Well, I have a very painful
service to ask of you; it is to come and help me, so that I may
not be left alone during the last moments of Charles, who is
dying. He may not last out the week, as the doctor has
forewarned me, although he has not yet taken to his bed. I have
no longer strength nor courage to witness this hourly death,
and I think with terror of those last moments which are drawing
near. I can only ask such a service of you, as my husband has
no relatives. You were his comrade; he opened the door of the
paper to you. Come, I beg of you; I have no one else to ask.

"Believe me, your very sincere friend,

"MADELEINE FORESTIER."

A strange feeling filled George's heart, a sense of freedom and of a
space opening before him, and he murmured: "To be sure, I'll go. Poor
Charles! What are we, after all?"

The governor, to whom he read the letter, grumblingly granted
permission, repeating: "But be back soon, you are indispensable to us."

George left for Cannes next day by the seven o'clock express, after
letting the Marelles know of his departure by a telegram. He arrived the
following evening about four o'clock. A commissionaire guided him to the
Villa Jolie, built half-way up the slope of the pine forest clothed
with white houses, which extends from Cannes to the Golfe Juan. The
house--small, low, and in the Italian style--was built beside the road
which winds zig-zag fashion up through the trees, revealing a succession
of charming views at every turning it makes.

The man servant opened the door, and exclaimed: "Oh! Sir, madame is
expecting you most impatiently."

"How is your master?" inquired Duroy.

"Not at all well, sir. He cannot last much longer."

The drawing-room, into which George was shown, was hung with pink and
blue chintz. The tall and wide windows overlooked the town and the sea.
Duroy muttered: "By Jove, this is nice and swell for a country house.
Where the deuce do they get the money from?"

The rustle of a dress made him turn round. Madame Forestier held out
both hands to him. "How good of you to come, how good of you to come,"
said she.

And suddenly she kissed him on the cheek. Then they looked at
one another. She was somewhat paler