my coat, and I stood looking down at her.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Ritchie," she said, glancing at the few figures
hurrying across the Place d'Armes; "those are only Americans, and they
are too busy to see us standing here. What do you propose to do now?"

"We must get word to Nick as we promised, that he may know what to
expect," I replied. "Suppose we go to Monsieur de St. Gre's house and
write him a letter?"

"No," said the Vicomtesse, with decision, "I am going to Mrs. Temple's.
I shall write the letter from there and send it by Andre, and you will
go direct to Madame Gravois's."

Her glance rested anxiously upon my face, and there came an expression
in her eyes which disturbed me strangely. I had not known it since the
days when Polly Ann used to mother me. But I did not mean to give up.

"I am not tired, Madame la Vicomtesse," I answered, "and I will go with
you to Mrs. Temple's."

"Give me your hand," she said, and smiled. "Andre and my maid are used
to my vagaries, and your own countrymen will not mind. Give me your
hand, Mr. Ritchie."

I gave it willingly enough, with a thrill as she took it between
her own. The same anxious look was in her eyes, and not the least
embarrassment.

"There, it is hot and dry, as I feared," she said, "and you seem
flushed." She dropped my hand, and there was a touch of irritation in
her voice as she continued: "You seemed fairly sensible when I first
met you last night, Mr. Ritchie. Are you losing your sanity? Do you not
realize that you cannot take liberties with this climate? Do as I say,
and go to Madame Gravois's at once."

"It is my pleasure to obey you, Madame la Vicomtesse," I answered, "but
I mean to go with you as far as Mrs. Temple's, to see how she fares. She
may be--worse."

"That is no reason why you should kill yourself," said Madame, coldly.
"Will you not do as I say?"

"I think that I should go to Mrs. Temple's," I answered.

She did not reply to that, letting down her veil impatiently, with a
deftness that characterized all her movements. Without so much as asking
me to come after her, she reached the banquette, and I walked by her
side through the streets, silent and troubled by her displeasure. My
pride forbade me to do as she wished. It was the hottest part of a
burning day, and the dome of the sky was like a brazen bell above us. We
passed the calabozo with its iron gates and tiny grilled windows pierced
in the massive walls, behind which Gignoux l