did not know why she had
done that. If only some one would tell her what it all meant! Was it
because Jean was going away for a little time? The dark eyes widened
slowly. Was it only for a little time? She had not talked to Jean
since that morning on the beach, and that was so long, long ago. It
wasn't Jean's fault, though, nearly so much as hers. She had really
tried to evade him. No, not to evade Jean; but to evade the others out
of the shyness and diffidence for the great strangers who were now
constantly around him. Would there be always these strangers around
him?

She drew herself up suddenly, her small hands fiercely clenched. She
hated these strangers! That was it! They were always coming between
Jean and herself! They were always there! They made of Jean a
different man; they made him one of themselves, and in doing that they
were snatching him away from her, taking him across what seemed like
some vast gulf that she could not traverse herself. She hated this
Monsieur American, and this mademoiselle; and she hated the day they
had come, for it had all begun that day. The red burned angrily in her
cheeks, the lithe form quivered in a quick rush of passion--and then,
instantly penitent, with a little sob, she flung herself down upon the
grass.

No; she did not hate them! What had she said! The _bon Dieu_ would be
very angry with her for that. And they had been very kind and good to
her, this monsieur and this mademoiselle. And to hate all the others
was to commit a sin, for were they not there because Jean--she raised
her head quickly, parting the bushes again, as she caught the sound of
steps and voices from the road.

It was Monsieur Bliss speaking in French to Father Anton, who walked
between Monsieur Bliss and mademoiselle.

"Why should he not work here? Why should he go to Paris? What a
question, my dear Monsieur le Cure! It is because here is nothing;
because in Paris there is everything. It is there that he will study
the great works of famous sculptors; it is there that he will have
models and facilities for his work; it is there that he will have
inspiration from the art around him; it is there that, with his genius,
he will sift and choose, profiting from the different schools even as
he creates a new one for himself; and it is there that the leading men
of France will unite with the social world to make the name of Jean
Laparde known and honoured wherever art is known."