d words than she had been by M. de Talbrun or by M. de Cymier. She
ceased to know what she was saying till the last words, "You have good
sense and you will think about it," met her ear.

Jacqueline said not a word.

Wanda took her arm. "You may be sure," she said, "that I am thinking only
of your good. Come! Would you like to go into the Casino and look at the
pictures? No, you are tired? You can see them some evening. The ballroom
holds a thousand persons. Yes, if you prefer, we will go home. You can
take a nap till dinner-time. We shall dine at eight o'clock."

Conversation languished till they reached the Villa Rosa. Notwithstanding
Jacqueline's efforts to appear natural, her own voice rang in her ears in
tones quite new to her, a laugh that she uttered without any occasion,
and which came near resulting in hysterics. Yet she had power enough over
her nerves to notice the surroundings as she entered the house. At the
door of the room in which she was to sleep, and which was on the first
story, Madame Strahlberg kissed her with one of those equivocal smiles
which so long had imposed on her simplicity.

"Till eight o'clock, then."

"Till eight o'clock," repeated Jacqueline, passively.

But when eight o'clock came she sent word that she had a severe headache,
and would try to sleep it off.

Suppose, she thought, M. de Cymier should have been asked to dinner;
suppose she should be placed next to him at table? Anything in that house
seemed possible now.

They brought her a cup of tea. Up to a late hour she heard a confused
noise of music and laughter. She did not try to sleep. All her faculties
were on the alert, like those of a prisoner who is thinking of escape.
She knew what time the night trains left the station, and, abandoning her
trunk and everything else that she had with her, she furtively--but
ready, if need were, to fight for her liberty with the strength of
desperation--slipped down the broad stairs over their thick carpet and
pushed open a little glass door. Thank heaven! people came in and went
out of that house as if it had been a mill. No one discovered her flight
till the next morning, when she was far on her way to Paris in an express
train. Modeste, quite unprepared for her young mistress's arrival, was
amazed to see her drop down upon her, feverish and excited, like some
poor hunted animal, with strength exhausted. Jacqueline flung herself
into her nurse's arms as she used to do when, as a li