"Virulent, but not catching," said she, helping him to some soup.

There were no soup-plates and she had dipped it from the pot with a
teacup and served it in a bowl; but the soup was just as good and was
rich with vegetable nutrition. He showed his appreciation by a
vigorous onslaught.

"And if it were a disease and catching?" he remarked presently.

"Then you would not be here," she replied. "You see, I'd run too much
risk. As it is--have some more wine?--But who understands love better
than a woman, monsieur?"

"Oh, I surrender, mademoiselle,--that is, provided she has loved and
loves no longer."

"Been sick and been cured, eh?" she suggested. "But that is more than
you require of the medical profession."

"True----"

He paused and listened. She turned her head at the same moment. There
were two distinct raps on the wall. He had heard, vaguely, the sound
of persons coming and going next door; had distinguished voices in the
next flat. There was nothing strange about that. But the knock was the
knock of design and at once arrested his attention.

The young girl started to her feet, her finger on her lips.

"He wants me," she said.

"That is evident, whoever 'he' may be," replied Jean, significantly.

"Oh, it is only Monsieur de Beauchamp. A sitting, perhaps," she added.

She slipped out of the room without deeming it necessary to resume her
overskirt. The feminine inhabitants of Rue St. Jacques were so
extremely unconventional,--they not infrequently went down into the
street for rolls and other articles attired in this charming negligee
of the bedroom boudoir. And would, perhaps, have extended this
unconventionality to the neighboring cafes, only the proprietaires
had to draw a line somewhere, and had unanimously drawn it at hats
and skirts, or full street dress.

Jean began to think himself entirely deserted, when Mlle. Fouchette
burst rather than walked into the room conducting her next-door
neighbor.

Jean saw before him a man scarcely older than himself, rather spare of
figure and pale of face, in the garb of a provincial and with an air
of the Jesuit enthusiast rather than the student of art. His long,
dark hair was thick and bushy and worn trimmed straight around the
neck after the fashion of Jeanne d'Arc's time. It completely hid his
ears and fell in sprays over his temples. His face was the typical
Christ of the old masters, the effect being heightened by the soft,
fine, virgin beard and