it
was deception! The cure passed his hand in a troubled way back and
forth through his white hair. He had seen little of Jean--it was
perhaps because he reminded Jean of Bernay-sur-Mer and the past that
Jean was anxious to forget, that Jean had gradually come, in manner
more than words, to intimate that the old friendship was distasteful.
But if latterly he had seen little of Jean, at least when he had first
come to Paris his visits to the studio had been frequent enough to
enable him to form an intimate acquaintance with Hector, the red-haired
concierge of Jean's studio and apartment, and with madame, Hector's
wife. Nor had he permitted this intimacy to wane. He could not forget
that he had loved Jean, and through these good people he still kept his
interest alive. It was but a few days ago that Hector had complained
that the work was too much for his wife alone, that after some nights
at the studio with a gay company the morning presented a debacle to
clear up that was a day's work in itself. It was too much for her; and
they came often, those nights.

Father Anton glanced at Marie-Louise. She was still watching him, a
sort of pitiful, eager expectancy in her face. His eyes fell to the
floor, as he continued to pace up and down. It could be arranged.
Jean rose very late. Marie-Louise could go early in the mornings to
tidy up the studio and the _atelier_. He could tell Hector she was a
charge of his, an honest girl to be trusted, who would do the work for
a few francs; and Hector in turn could obtain Jean's consent.
Marie-Louise would see for herself the life Jean led--and, besides,
Hector and his wife were not tongue-tied! But it was a terribly cruel
thing to do! The old priest's hands clasped and unclasped again in
genuine distress. It was terribly cruel! But it was little
Marie-Louise, whom he loved so tenderly, whose future was at stake. It
must not always be as it was to-day--sadness and hopelessness for the
brave young heart that should be so full of joy and life.

He halted before Marie-Louise. Yes, it was the right thing to do;
there was no other way; she must be disillusioned; she should see
Jean's life at the studio; and to-night at the great reception she
should see Jean himself. Only his heart was very heavy--it was so hard
a thing to do.

"Listen, Marie-Louise," he said abruptly. "I will help you, but it is
on the condition to which you have agreed--that Jean is in no way to
know t