directors' room, indicated by a plate upon its door.

As for Henri, silent and absorbed, he hesitated between the dread of
facing a new emotion and the desire to go once more to gaze upon the
tower of Prerolles, hardly more than two kilometres distant.

"What is the matter with you, General?" Zibeline asked, observing that he
did not appear to take pleasure in the surprise she had prepared.

"I lived here many years a long time ago," he replied. "I am thinking of
all that it recalls to me; and, if you would not consider it discourteous
on my part, I should like to leave you for a little time to make a
pilgrimage on foot around the neighborhood."

"Would you like to have me take you myself? I have a little English cart
which can run about anywhere," said Zibeline.

The proposition was tempting. The sweetness of a tete-a-tete might
diminish the bitterness of recollections. He accepted.

She ordered the cart brought around, and they climbed into the small
vehicle, which was drawn by a strong pony, driven by Zibeline herself.

"Which way?" she asked, when they had passed through the gates.

"To the right," he said, pointing to a rough, half-paved slope, an
abandoned part of what had been in former days the highway, which now
joins the new road at the Beaumont tunnel.

Passing this point, and leaving on their left the state road of
l'Ile-d'Adam, they drove through a narrow cross-cut, between embankments,
by which one mounts directly to the high, plateau that overlooks the town
of Presles.

The hill was steep, and the pony was out of breath. They were compelled
to stop to allow him to rest.

"It is not necessary to go any farther," said Henri to his companion. "I
need only to take a few steps in order to see what interests me."

"I will wait for you here," she replied, alighting after him. "Don't be
afraid to leave me alone. The horse will not move; he is used to
stopping."

He left her gathering daisies, and walked resolutely to the panoramic
point of view, where a strange and unexpected sight met his eyes!

All that had once been so dear to him had regained its former aspect. The
kitchen-gardens had given place to the rich pastures, where yearling
colts frisked gayly. The factory had disappeared, and the chateau had
been restored to its original appearance. The walls enclosing the park
had been rebuilt, and even several cleared places indicated the sites of
cottages that had been pulled down.

Henri de Pr