just now, Richard!--I tried to
turn, not men to swine, but swine to men. And I failed, of course. The
gods know best. They never attempt metamorphosis on the ascending
scale! I let Destournelle come to see me frequently. The world advised
itself to talk. But, being rather bitterly secure of myself, I
disregarded that. If one is aware that one's heart was finally and long
ago disposed of, one ceases to think seriously of that side of things.
You must know all that well enough--witness the sea-born furnishings of
my bedroom up-stairs!"

For half a minute she paused. Richard made no comment.

"Hard words break no bones," she added lightly. "And so, to show how
much I despised all such censorious cackle, I allowed Destournelle to
travel south with me when I left Paris."

"You pushed neglect of the worship of conventionality rather far,"
Richard said.

Helen rose to her feet. Excitement gained on her, as always during one
of her delightful improvisations, her talented _viva voce_ improvements
on dry-as-dust fact. She laughed softly, biting her lip. More than one
hound had been slipped by now. They made good running. She stood by
Richard Calmady, looking down at him, covering him, so to speak, with
her eyes. The black mantilla no longer veiled her bright head. It had
fallen to the ground, and lay a dark blot upon the mellow fairness of
the tesselated pavement. White-robed, statuesque--yet not with the
severe grace of marble, but with that softer, more humanly seductive
grace of some figure of cunningly tinted ivory--she appeared, just
then, to gather up in herself all the poetry, the intense and vivid
light, the victorious vitality, of the clear, burning, southern noon.

"Ah, well, conventionality proved perfectly competent to avenge
herself!" she exclaimed. "The animal Destournelle took the average, the
banal view, as might have been anticipated. He had the insane
presumption to suppose it was himself, not his art, in which I was
interested. I explained his error, and departed. I recovered my
equanimity. That took time. I felt soiled, degraded. And then to-day I
meet him again, unashamed, actually claiming recognition. I repeated my
explanation with uncompromising lucidity----"

Richard moved restlessly in his chair, looking up almost sharply at
her.

"Waste of breath," he said. "No explanation is lucid if the hearer is
unwilling to accept it."

And then the two cousins, as though they had reached unexpectedly some