o sound came from them, whilst his cheeks
went white and red by turns. His courtliness of a moment ago had
vanished, and he stood sheepish and gauche as a clown. At length he
so far mastered himself as to bow and make a sign to the coachman, who
thereupon gathered up his reins.

"You are going presumably to Blois?" he stammered with a nervous laugh,
as if the journey were a humorous proceeding.

"Yes, Monsieur," answered Genevieve, "we are going home."

"Why, then, it is possible that we shall meet again. I, too, am
travelling in that direction. A bientot, Mesdemoiselles!"

The whip cracked, the coach began to move, and the creaking of its
wheels drowned, so far as I was concerned, the female voices that
answered his farewell. The coachman roused his horses into an amble; the
amble became a trot, and the vehicle vanished round a corner. Some few
idlers stopped to gaze stupidly after it, but not half so stupidly as
did my poor Andrea, standing bareheaded where the coach had left him.

I drew near, and laid my hand on his shoulder; at the touch he started
like one awakened suddenly, and looked up.

"Ah--you are returned, Gaston."

"To find that you have made a discovery, and are overwhelmed by your
error."

"My error?"

"Yes--that of falling in love with the wrong one. Helas, it is but one
of those ironical jests wherewith Fate amuses herself at every step
of our lives. Had you fallen in love with Yvonne--and it passes my
understanding why you did not--everything would have gone smoothly with
your wooing. Unfortunately, you have a preference for fair hair--"

"Have done," he interrupted peevishly. "What does it signify? To the
devil with Mazarin's plans!"

"So you said this morning."

"Yes, when I did not even dream her name was Canaples."

"Nevertheless, she is the wrong Canaples."

"For my uncle--but, mille diables! sir, 't is I who am to wed, and I
shall wed as my heart bids me."

"Hum! And Mazarin?"

"Faugh!" he answered, with an expressive shrug.

"Well, since you are resolved, let us dine."

"I have no appetite."

"Let us dine notwithstanding. Eat you must if you would live; and unless
you live--think of it!--you'll never reach Blois."

"Gaston, you are laughing at me! I do not wish to eat."

I surveyed him gravely, with my arms akimbo.

"Can love so expand the heart of man that it fills even his stomach?
Well, well, if you will not eat, at least have the grace to bear me
company at tabl