‘Because I think I shall return to Paris. I am sick and tired of the life I lead here, and am ready to sacrifice my future itself in order to break through the chains that keep me a prisoner in St. Pucelle.’ ‘Oh no! monsieur, you must be patient! You must not do that!’ What made me speak to this stranger in so unaccountable a manner? Some sudden thought of Tessie, and that she would be left to pine in solitude in St. Pucelle, whilst the Baron was recklessly throwing away his last chances of respectability and honour in Paris, had put them into my mind and made me forget myself. I expected that my companion would be offended at my audacity, but he did not even look surprised. ‘Why should I not do so?’ he answered quietly; ‘I live only for myself. No one cares what becomes of my future! It is mine to do as I will with; and this life is too intolerable to be endured for one’s self alone.’ ‘You may not always be alone,’ I said, thinking of the fair-haired woman divided from us only by the organ. The Baron laughed incredulously. ‘This is a pretty château, is it not, to bring a young lady home to, mademoiselle, and ask her to live upon roses? They smell sweet enough as they adorn your bosom, but you would not find them very satisfying as your daily food.’ At that I laughed also. ‘No, indeed! Still, monsieur——’ ‘I wait the commands of mademoiselle——’ ‘Even if no one cares what becomes of your future, you have the honour and glory of the past in your keeping.’ He made no answer to this remark, and when I ventured to look up in his face I saw that he was biting his lips. Whether he would have replied to me I know not, but at that moment the notes of the organ ceased, the bellows gave a great squeak, and Ange came laughing to ask us if she had not already made a great improvement in the appearance of the chapel. ‘If Monsieur le Baron will only let me repair the altar-cloth and clean the ornaments it will make the whole place look different. And the organ sounds lovely, Tessie! I wish you could have heard it yourself from a little distance. Has it not been a pleasure to you to touch an organ again? You have never had an opportunity of playing on one since we were last in Brussels.’ ‘Yes, I have enjoyed it greatly,’ replied Tessie. ‘The notes are a little stiff from damp and disuse, and I do not think you worked the bellows very regularly, Hilda; but otherwise we have nothing like this in St. Pucelle. I only wish I could carry it away in my pocket.’ ‘If it is really a pleasure to you to use the instrument, mademoiselle, I trust you will regard it as your own,’ said the Baron, ‘and play on it as often as may be convenient to yourself. The key of the chapel is always left in the hands of Denise, and I will give her orders to see that it is kept in a fit state for your accommodation.’