or. She only fully recovered the use of her senses
the following day. Then she began to weep. The disappearance of Susan
was explained to the servants as due to her being suddenly sent back to
the convent. And Monsieur Walter replied to a long letter of Du Roy by
granting him his daughter's hand.

Pretty-boy had posted this letter at the moment of leaving Paris, for he
had prepared it in advance the evening of his departure. He said in it,
in respectful terms, that he had long loved the young girl; that there
had never been any agreement between them; but that finding her come
freely to him to say, "I wish to be your wife," he considered himself
authorized in keeping her, even in hiding her, until he had obtained an
answer from her parents, whose legal power had for him less weight than
the wish of his betrothed. He demanded that Monsieur Walter should
reply, "post restante," a friend being charged to forward the letter to
him.

When he had obtained what he wished he brought back Susan to Paris, and
sent her on to her parents, abstaining himself from appearing for some
little time.

They had spent six days on the banks of the Seine at La Roche-Guyon.

The young girl had never enjoyed herself so much. She had played at
pastoral life. As he passed her off as his sister, they lived in a free
and chaste intimacy--a kind of loving friendship. He thought it a clever
stroke to respect her. On the day after their arrival she had purchased
some linen and some country-girl's clothes, and set to work fishing,
with a huge straw hat, ornamented with wild flowers, on her head. She
thought the country there delightful. There was an old tower and an old
chateau, in which beautiful tapestry was shown.

George, dressed in a boating jersey, bought ready-made from a local
tradesman, escorted Susan, now on foot along the banks of the river, now
in a boat. They kissed at every moment, she in all innocence, and he
ready to succumb to temptation. But he was able to restrain himself; and
when he said to her, "We will go back to Paris to-morrow; your father
has granted me your hand," she murmured simply, "Already? It was so nice
being your wife here."

XVIII

It was dark in the little suite of rooms in the Rue de Constantinople;
for George Du Roy and Clotilde de Marelle, having met at the door, had
gone in at once, and she had said to him, without giving him time to
open the Venetian blinds: "So you are going to marry Susan Walte