anding there, that the
grey eyes were fixed upon her; and then that from the salon some one
called to mademoiselle--but she did not hear mademoiselle go, only when
she looked up again she was alone in the atelier. And it was very kind
of mademoiselle to go so softly, and to say no more.

She rose slowly to her feet, and passed through the atelier, and
through the salon, and out into the hall, and to the stairs--and paused
there to listen with pitiful eagerness. But there was no sound from
above--there was only the voice of her soul that kept whispering so
cruelly, "it is you ... it is you ... it is you ... it is not Paul
Valmain who has done this ... it is you ... it is you."

And there at the foot of the stairs she knelt down for a moment; then
rose, and crossed the hall slowly to the door, and opened it--and
walked blindly out.

-- VIII --

FLIGHT

Madame Garneau's hair straggled untidily about her head, her hands were
red, calloused, inclined indeed to be grimy, she had passed even that
poets'-consolation-prize age of forty, and she had no figure; but
Madame Garneau was possessed of a heart. She pushed open the door of
Marie-Louise's room, and dangled in her hand a yellow paper bag that
was grease specked on the bottom.

"_Voila_, my little lodger!" she cried gaily. "I have this for you,
and you will never guess what it is; and, besides, I have something
else--a message for you from Father Anton. Now which will you have
first?"

Marie-Louise, from her chair by the window, rose quickly to her feet,
with a little exclamation of pleased surprise.

Madame Garneau immediately pushed her back into the chair.

"But you are to remain quiet--eh, _ma petite_!" She wagged her finger
severely in front of Marie-Louise's nose. "Now sit still, or you shall
have neither one nor the other!"

"What nonsense!" laughed Marie-Louise, as she stood up once more. "I
am quite well again--and I am even to go out this morning."

The paper bag banged belligerently on Madame Garneau's hip, as she
placed her arms akimbo.

"You are to go out! And who said you are to go out?"

"But, who else--the doctor," Marie-Louise answered with a smile.

"Ah, the doctor!" sniffed Madame Garneau disdainfully. "I have my
opinion of doctors! In two or three days it will be time enough!" She
wagged her forefinger again, and held up the bag. "Eh, _bien_--can you
guess?"

"Never!" admitted Marie-Louise, shaking her head prettily