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, with the moonlight full upon it now. It was beautiful, it was glorious--but there was something more. There was something in the face that seemed to stir a memory, a world of memories within her. There was something familiar in the face--there seemed to be something there that she recognised and yet could not define. She had seen that face all her life--all her life. It belonged to every one that she had ever known in Bernay-sur-Mer--and yet it belonged to no one at all that she could name. But then--it was not finished yet. Perhaps when it was finished she would know. It would be finished now in a few days more, Hector had said; and he had said, too, that it would be the greatest work Jean had ever done. If she could only watch it until it was finished! If she could only do that--afterwards she would go away. It was only for a little while that she had come to Paris--only for a little while. If she could do that! If she could come to-morrow night, and the nights after that until it was all finished, just as she had come to-night! Yes, yes--_yes_! Yes, she would come! She would watch it grow, and watch so eagerly and so tensely the face that was so well-known yet so elusive now! "_La Fille du Regiment_!" Her hands cupping her chin, she sat there as motionless, as silent as the statue itself; sat there absorbed, unconscious of the passing time. It was strange the face should be familiar! It was strange that there, too, had been something familiar in the face of that figure in the park that Father Anton had taken her to see, in the face of every other figure that the cure had pointed out to her as Jean's work! She had gone back to look at them alone; but they, although they were finished, had not answered her question, had not told her who they were. But this one, this one was _almost_ telling her now--there was only to come a touch, just a touch from Jean's hand--that would perhaps be there when she came to-morrow night--and then she would know. And so she sat there, and the hours passed, and the moonlight faded, and the grey of dawn crept into the room--and Marie-Louise roused herself with a start. And at first dismay was upon her. It was morning--too late to go home! And then she shook her head, and smiled happily--happily, because she had spent glad and happy hours, and there was no need to be dismayed. Presently, she would go about her work--to which she had come early, that was all. A
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