waist.

In the valley below they could see the broad river like a ribbon of
silver unrolled beneath the morning sun, the factory chimneys belching
forth their clouds of smoke into the sky, and the pointed spires rising
above the old town.

X

The Du Roys had been back in Paris a couple of days, and the journalist
had taken up his old work pending the moment when he should definitely
assume Forestier's duties, and give himself wholly up to politics. He
was going home that evening to his predecessor's abode to dinner, with a
light heart and a keen desire to embrace his wife, whose physical
attractions and imperceptible domination exercised a powerful impulse
over him. Passing by a florist's at the bottom of the Rue Notre Dame de
Lorette, he was struck by the notion of buying a bouquet for Madeleine,
and chose a large bunch of half-open roses, a very bundle of perfumed
buds.

At each story of his new staircase he eyed himself complacently in the
mirrors, the sight of which continually recalled to him his first visit
to the house. He rang the bell, having forgotten his key, and the same
man-servant, whom he had also kept on by his wife's advice, opened the
door.

"Has your mistress come home?" asked George.

"Yes, sir."

But on passing through the dining-room he was greatly surprised to find
the table laid for three, and the hangings of the drawing-room door
being looped up, saw Madeleine arranging in a vase on the mantelpiece a
bunch of roses exactly similar to his own. He was vexed and displeased;
it was as though he had been robbed of his idea, his mark of attention,
and all the pleasure he anticipated from it.

"You have invited some one to dinner, then?" he inquired, as he entered
the room.

She answered without turning round, and while continuing to arrange the
flowers: "Yes, and no. It is my old friend, the Count de Vaudrec, who
has been accustomed to dine here every Monday, and who has come as
usual."

George murmured: "Ah! very good."

He remained standing behind her, bouquet in hand, with a longing to hide
it or throw it away. He said, however: "I have brought you some roses."

She turned round suddenly, smiling, and exclaimed: "Ah! how nice of you
to have thought of that."

And she held out her arms and lips to him with an outburst of joy so
real that he felt consoled. She took the flowers, smelt them, and with
the liveliness of a delighted child, placed them in the vase that
remained