appointed, she should be very happy that the _bon
Dieu_ had made it possible for her to come here at all, to be so close
to Jean, and to be able to spend these hours here with his work--and
even if it were days and days before it was finished, could she not
still come here every night until it was done, and could she not still
be able to see it then?

As she looked around her, the white-wrapt figures seemed to nod to her
and promise her that it would be so. How quiet and still it was, and
how peacefully the moonlight filled the _atelier_--Jean's _atelier_.
It was so different a scene from that magnificent reception where
France in all its glory had honoured Jean; where the marble stairs, the
lights, the throngs, the glittering uniforms, the marvellously dressed
women with their furs and jewels had awed and frightened her, and yet
had filled her, too, with ecstasy because it was Jean's triumph, and
had brought thankfulness into her resignation because she had seen with
her own eyes how great he had become and how little had been her own
sacrifice to achieve so much. Yes, it was strange how different was
that scene and this around her now--and yet they were both so intimate
a part of Jean's life. And they were so very different to her in a
personal way. She did not want to see that world of the rich and the
great any more, because she could not understand it, and no one there
could understand her; but here--she was so glad and happy to be
here--here she could understand, and here these figures understood her
when she spoke to them because they knew that she had given all she had
to give, not out of her own strength but out of the strength that the
_bon Dieu_ had given her, that they might be created by Jean's hands.
Here, Jean was so near to her; there, in that other world, he was so
far away--so far away that she had gone utterly out of his life, even
out of his thoughts.

She sighed a little as she sat there on the modelling platform; and
then there came again that little smile of self-reproof, and with it a
chiding shake of her head. It was well that it was so. There was no
other way. It would have brought only distress and pain to Jean if he
were always to remember, and--and it was far better so. The gulf
between them was so wide and deep that it could never be passed, and if
she were still living in Jean's heart it could only make life a very
terrible thing for them both. And so--and so--yes, she should be