tself had a slight
touch of the dream in it. It was no longer quite right, and was
getting out of drawing and perspective, so to speak. I had lost my
stay--the touch of her hand.

"Are you still dreaming true, Mr. Ibbetson?"

"I am afraid not quite," I replied.

"You must try by yourself a little--try hard. Look at this house; what
is written on the portico?"

I saw written in gold letters the words "Tete Noire," and said so.

She rippled with laughter, and said, "No, try again;" and just touched
me with the tip of her finger for a moment.

I tried again, and said "Parvis Notre Dame."

"That's rather better," she said, and touched me again; and I read,
"Parva sed Apta," as I had so often read there before in old days.

"And now look at that old house over there," pointing to my old home;
"how many windows are there in the top story?"

I said seven.

"No; there are five. Look again!" and there were five; and the whole
house was exactly, down to its minutest detail, as it had been once
upon a time. I could see Therese through one of the windows, making my
bed.

"That's better," said the duchess; "you will soon do it--it's very
easy--_ce n'est que le premier pas_! My father taught me; you must
always sleep on your back with your arms above your head, your hands
clasped under it and your feet crossed, the right one over the left,
unless you are left-handed; and you must never for a moment cease
thinking of where you want to be in your dream till you are asleep and
get there; and you must never forget in your dream where and what you
were when awake. You must join the dream on to reality. Don't forget.
And now I will say good-by; but before I go, give me both your hands,
and look round everywhere as far as your eye can see."

It was hard to look away from her; her face drew my eyes, and through
them all my heart; but I did as she told me, and took in the whole
familiar scene, even to the distant woods of Ville d'Avray, a glimpse
of which was visible through an opening in the trees; even to the
smoke of a train making its way to Versailles, miles off; and the old
telegraph, working its black arms on the top of Mont Valerien.

"Is it all right?" she asked. "That's well. Henceforward, whenever you
come here, you will be safe as far as your sight can reach,--from this
spot,--all through my introduction. See what it is to have a friend at
court! No more little dancing jailers! And then you can gradually get
farth