rning, he was in the state
of mind when a man of fastidious taste forgives even a lack of taste in
the woman to whom he is acting as guide, philosopher, and friend.

He told himself that Sylvia Bailey could not be left alone in a place
like Lacville, and that it was his positive duty to stay on there and
look after her....

Suddenly their eyes met. Sylvia blushed--Heavens! how adorable she looked
when there came that vivid rose-red blush over her rounded cheeks. And
she was adorable in a simple, unsophisticated way, which appealed to Paul
de Virieu as nothing in woman had ever appealed to him before.

He could not help enjoying the thought of how surprised his sister would
be. Marie-Anne had doubtless pictured Mrs. Bailey as belonging to the
rather hard, self-assertive type of young Englishwoman of whom Paris sees
a great deal. But Sylvia looked girlishly simple, timid, and confiding.

As he greeted her, Paul de Virieu's manner was serious, almost solemn.
But none the less, while they walked side by side in a quiet, leisurely
fashion through the great grey station, Sylvia felt as if she had indeed
passed through the shining portals of fairyland.

In the covered courtyard stood the Duchesse's carriage. Count Paul
motioned the footman aside and stood bareheaded while Sylvia took her
place in the victoria. As he sat down by her side he suddenly observed,
"My brother-in-law does not like motor-cars," and Sylvia felt secret,
shame-faced gratitude to the Duc d'Eglemont, for, thanks to this prejudice
of his, the moments now being spent by her alone with Count Paul were
trebled.

As the carriage drove with swift, gondola-like motion through the hot
streets, Sylvia felt more than ever as if she were in a new, enchanted
country--that dear country called Romance, and, as if to prolong the
illusion, the Count began to talk what seemed to her the language of
that country.

"Every Frenchman," he exclaimed, abruptly, "is in love with love, and
when you hear--as you may do sometimes, Madame--that a Frenchman is
rarely in love with his own wife, pray answer that this is quite untrue!
For it often happens that in his wife a Frenchman discovers the love he
has sought elsewhere in vain."

He looked straight before him as he added: "As for marriage--well,
marriage is in my country regarded as a very serious matter indeed! No
Frenchman goes into marriage as light-heartedly as does the average
Englishman, and as have done, for instan