wasn't going to marry him! There wasn't the slightest reason in
the world why, just when the man turned out to be an embryonic genius
and promised to prove really interesting, she should change her
attitude toward him--and, anyway, it was almost a foregone conclusion
that her father now would monopolise Jean Laparde morning, noon and
night.

She glanced at the boat--and started abruptly for the house. To remain
there would have been almost too obviously--a meeting. Jean had
evidently not gone to the village at all with the other boats--she
supposed there were other boats since the cure had spoken of them--but
had come directly in from wherever he had been fishing.

She reached the house and through the window watched Jean send the boat
sweeping up to the beach, leap from it, and, seemingly without
exertion, pull it higher over the sand. He turned then, searching the
house with his eyes; and suddenly placed his hands trumpet-fashion to
his lips.

"Marie-Louise! Ho, Marie-Louise!" she heard him shout, as he came
running up the cliff path from the beach.

Virile in movement, a striking figure, there seemed all of command,
something heroic even in the rugged strength, something absolutely
undauntable about the man. And then she laughed merrily to herself, as
she stepped to the door. What a change! Who would have believed it!
Jean, at sight of her, had stopped as though he had been struck,
self-consciousness mocked at the air of command, and through the brown
tan of his face crept the red.

"Oh, it is you, Jean!" she exclaimed.

Mechanically he reached up for his cap.

"I--I did not think that mademoiselle had got here yet," he said, the
dark eyes in their steady gaze disconcertingly at variance with his
stammering speech.

"We've been here ages," she told him quickly. "But the others have
gone back again. Marie-Louise has gone to help Nanette with the
things. And my father rushed off with that delightful old cure of
yours to look for you."

"Rushed off to look for me?" echoed Jean in astonishment. "But I told
Jacques Fregeau to tell you that I would come here as soon--"

"Yes, of course, to look for you--but not for the purpose you imagine!"
she broke in smiling, and shook her head reproachfully at him. "Jean,
do you know that I am quite angry with you! Come here!" She led the
way into the house. "Now!"--pointing to the clay figure on the table.
"Is not that your work?"

"But, yes, mademoisell