e grass
beside. The birds stirred in the trees, and the low, long surge of the
sea sounded monotonously.

* * * * *

It was after a long silence that Raoul looked up as if he were about to
speak. Their eyes met. He paled visibly. Her face became scarlet. With a
manifest effort he regained self-possession and stood up.

"It grows late, Mademoiselle," he said; "let us go home." And his voice
sounded dry and harsh.

She rose obediently. He wrapped the cloak about her, and they walked on
down the hill in silence, and entered the avenue that leads to
Rocheville. The swallows wheeled and fell in long graceful circles, and
the setting sunlight streaming through the trees made of the white road
a mosaic of light and shadow. The glow had faded from Mademoiselle's
face. Once as he moved her arm the cloak half fell. He replaced it
tenderly.

At the hotel door he kissed her hand and left her.

VIII.

For an hour he walked aimlessly, often baring his hair to the cold
sea-wind. Then he went back to the Place St. Amand and from under the
shrine at the corner watched her lighted window. Then he went home, and
until long past midnight sat without moving. Mademoiselle seemed to be
near him. He recalled every event of the day. The pleasant sunlight in
the woods; the merry nonsense of the lunch at St. Pierre; the homeward
walk; the distant heaving waters. The blood surged like fire through his
veins; he bowed down his face and groaned aloud.

Day by day he had maintained a secret battle with himself. The very
philosophy which had frightened and saddened Mademoiselle was evidence
of the bitter struggle, though she did not know this. If he had someone
to love, she had said mentally, he would not be so stern. She deceived
herself. It was because he wrestled with a passion that threatened to
overwhelm his reason that he wore so often the mask of sternness.

Early in the morning he left Rocheville for Rouen. Madame, when she
found his bed undisturbed, said to her husband that Monsieur must have
had bad news.

* * * * *

Mademoiselle woke from a fitful sleep with her head aching. She waited
anxiously, but Raoul did not come. It was past midday when M. Lorman,
with a grim smile, showed to her a note he had received.

"It is necessary for me to go to Rouen," it ran, "and I shall
probably remain there for a few days. I beg of you to excuse me,
and to conv