she was met halfway, for, had she
been less eager, she must have seen that the viscount-baron's joy at
seeing her again was sincere.

"You hesitate to ask what happened after your fortunate escape with that
young student," he said, when they were allowed a few minutes together
by the artful management of the hostess. "I can tell you that I had to
pass through a fiery ordeal and I hope you preserved a kindly memory of
one who suffered tremendously for you. Major Von Sendlingen was not an
undetached person whose quarrel could be kept among private ones. On the
contrary, he moved the authorities like a chess-player does the pieces,
and he moved them against me. At the first, they talked of nothing less
than trying me for treason, since the projected arrest of the Polish
conspirator and yourself--kinswoman of the Dobronowska inscribed in the
black book of the Russian and Polish police--was foiled on my territory.
The major affirmed that he had seen me not only looking on at the defeat
of his posse, but holding my farmers in check not to hasten to their
assistance. He alleged that I had lent racehorses to you and your
accomplice, for your continued flight. This Polander--"

"You can say Frenchman, now," returned Madame Clemenceau; "he is one,
and my cousin. The story is long and involved and will keep to another
day. It is he I married."

"Your husband!" he exclaimed, and she nodded apologetically.

"Then," sighed he, "my dream ends here--on that day when we last met."

"A learned man has said, in a lecture here, that dreams can be repeated
and continued, by an effort of the will. My advice to you is to try it."

"Do not jest with me! You can see--you can be sure if you will but
question--that I narrowly escaped the State's prison for helping you.
Spite of all, I can love no other woman but you--"

She held up her closed fan and touched his lips with the feathery
edging.

"You must not talk so--at least--here," she said, with her glance in
contradiction to her words. "I am happy, or contented, strictly
speaking, in my home, and as soon as my husband realizes one or two of
the ideas over which he is musing, happiness must be mine. A success in
art will drag him forth; he must go to Paris to be feasted in the salons
and lionized in the conversaziones."

And her eyes blazed as she figured herself presiding at an assemblage of
artists and patrons.

"Pardon me," said the viscount-baron. "I am afraid I add to your worry