erhaps she would not speak in that
way if she had done him the honor of visiting his farms of Casentino,
although these had suffered from long and ruinous lawsuits. She would
have seen there what an Italian landscape really is.

"I take a great deal of care of my domain. I was coming from it to-night
when I had the double pleasure of finding at the station Miss Bell, who
had gone there to find her Ghiberti bell, and you, Madame, who were
talking with a friend from Paris."

He had the idea that it would be disagreeable to her to hear him speak of
that meeting. He looked around the table, and saw the expression of
anxious surprise which Dechartre could not restrain. He insisted:

"Forgive, Madame, in a rustic, a certain pretension to knowing something
about the world. In the man who was talking to you I recognized a
Parisian, because he had an English air; and while he affected stiffness,
he showed perfect ease and particular vivacity."

"Oh," said Therese, negligently, "I have not seen him for a long time. I
was much surprised to meet him at Florence at the moment of his
departure."

She looked at Dechartre, who affected not to listen.

"I know that gentleman," said Miss Bell. "It is Monsieur Le Menil. I
dined with him twice at Madame Martin's, and he talked to me very well.
He said he liked football; that he introduced the game in France, and
that now football is quite the fashion. He also related to me his hunting
adventures. He likes animals. I have observed that hunters like animals.
I assure you, darling, that Monsieur Le Menil talks admirably about
hares. He knows their habits. He said to me it was a pleasure to look at
them dancing in the moonlight on the plains. He assured me that they were
very intelligent, and that he had seen an old hare, pursued by dogs,
force another hare to get out of the trail so as to deceive the hunters.
Darling, did Monsieur Le Menil ever talk to you about hares?"

Therese replied she did not know, and that she thought hunters were
tiresome.

Miss Bell exclaimed. She did not think M. Le Menil was ever tiresome when
talking of the hares that danced in the moonlight on the plains and among
the vines. She would like to raise a hare, like Phanion.

"Darling, you do not know Phanion. Oh, I am sure that Monsieur Dechartre
knows her. She was beautiful, and dear to poets. She lived in the Island
of Cos, beside a dell which, covered with lemon-trees, descended to the
blue sea. And they