n this day of days no one could be found to attend to anything!
Shops were shut, post offices did not work. The city was mad with
rejoicing.

At luncheon I ate,--gulped down my food. Burton's calm reassured me.

"You don't think anything has happened, do you Burton?"

"No, Sir Nicholas. Her Ladyship is no doubt with her family. I don't
feel that anything is amiss. Her Grace returns to-morrow anyway, and we
can hear for sure then. Would you not care to drive out and see the
people, Sir? It is a day!"

But I told him no. He must go, they all could go. I would wait in and
could now attend to myself! But I knew somehow that the dear old boy
would not leave me.

The hours went by, the shouting grew louder, as bands passed on their
way to the _Champs Elysees_ to see the cannon, which I heard were now
dragged there. Burton came in from time to time to tell me the news,
gathered from the _concierge_ below.

I telephoned to Maurice, he was wild with delight! They were going to
have a great dinner at the Ritz and then go and _farandole_ in the
streets with the people, would not we (_we!_) join them!

Everyone was going. Odette telephoned too, and Daisy Ryven. All were
rejoicing and happy.

The agony grew and grew. What if she means to leave me and has just
disappeared, not telling me on purpose to punish me? At this thought I
went frantically into her room again, and looked on the dressing-table.
The ring cases were there in a drawer in the William and Mary
looking-glass, but no rings. No, if she had not meant to return she
would have left them behind her. This gave me hope.

I had the fire lit. Burton lit it, everyone else was out.

Of course the crowd has prevented her returning. There would be great
difficulty in getting back from Auteuil.

Some of the fellows of the Supreme War Council rang up. They were less
exhilarated by the news. A pity, they thought. Foch could have entered
Berlin in a week!

At last, when I had been pacing like a restless tiger, and twilight was
coming, I sank into my chair overcome with the strain.

I did not mean to feel the drivel of self pity, but it is a ghastly
thing to be all alone and anxious, when everyone else is shouting for
joy.

I was staring into the fire. I had not had the lights lit on purpose. I
wanted the soft shadows to soothe me. Burton had gone down again to the
_concierge_.

A bitterness and a melancholy I cannot describe was holding me. Of what
good my leg and