awake, he had come in person to make his
excuses for leaving me that morning.

"Bon Dieu!" he said, looking at me, "the country has done you good
already. Behold a marvel! Au revoir, David."

I heard the horses being brought around, and laughter and voices. How
easily I distinguished hers! Then I heard the hoof-beats on the soft
dirt of the drive. Then silence,--the silence of a summer morning which
is all myriad sweet sounds. Then Lindy appeared, starched and turbaned.

"Marse Dave, how you feel dis mawnin'? Yo' 'pears mighty peart, sholy.
Marse Dave, yo' chair is sot on de gallery. Is you ready? I'll fotch
dat yaller nigger, Andre."

"You needn't fetch Andre," I said; "I can walk."

"Lan sakes, Marse Dave, but you is bumptious."

I rose and walked out on the gallery with surprising steadiness. A great
cushioned chair had been placed there and beside it a table with books,
and another chair. I sat down. Lindy looked at me sharply, but I did
not heed her, and presently she retired. The day, still in its early
golden glory, seemed big with prescience. Above, the saffron haze was
lifted, and there was the blue sky. The breeze held its breath; the
fragrance of grass and fruit and flowers, of the shrub that vied with
all, languished on the air. Out of these things she came.

I knew that she was coming, but I saw her first at the gallery's end, the
roses she held red against the white linen of her gown. Then I felt a
great yearning and a great dread. I have seen many of her kind since,
and none reflected so truly as she the life of the old regime. Her
dress, her carriage, her air, all suggested it; and she might, as Nick
said, have been walking in the gardens of the Trianon. Titles I cared
nothing for. Hers alone seemed real, to put her far above me. Had all
who bore them been as worthy, titles would have meant much to mankind.

She was coming swiftly. I rose to my feet before her. I believe I
should have risen in death. And then she was standing beside me, looking
up into my face.

"You must not do that," she said, "or I will go away."

I sat down again. She went to the door and called, I following her with
my eyes. Lindy came with a bowl of water.

"Put it on the table," said the Vicomtesse.

Lindy put the bowl on the table, gave us a glance, and departed silently.
The Vicomtesse began to arrange the flowers in the bowl, and I watched
her, fascinated by her movements. She did everything quickly, deftly,
but t