For a day and a half Ely was helpless with a severe headache. Then she asked her friend to assist her in her plans. Like all people of vigorous frame, Ely was never either well or ill in extremes. When at last she was able to sleep the heavy slumber that follows such a shock, she felt as well, as energetic, as strong-willed as upon the day her happiness had been so completely destroyed. But she did not knowhow to employ her recovered energy. Again and again she asked herself the question, upon whose answer her movements depended: "Is Pierre still in Cannes?" She hoped to see some one in the afternoon who would inform her, but none of the visitors who came to see her even uttered Hautefeuille's name. Upon her part she had not the courage to speak of the young man. She felt that her voice could not utter the beloved syllables without her face suffusing with blood, without her emotion being apparent to every one. And yet there were only very dear friends who called upon her that afternoon. Florence Marsh was one of the first. Her eyes were bright with a deep, contented happiness. Her pleasant smile wreathed her lips at every moment. "I felt that I had to come to thank you, my dear Baroness. I am engaged to Monsieur Verdier. I shall never forget all that I owe you. My uncle asked me to excuse him to you. He has so many things to do, and we leave to-morrow upon the _Jenny_. My _fiancé_ comes with us." How could Ely mingle any of the pain which oppressed her heart with the joy whose innocence caused her deep suffering? How could she let Andryana, who came in smiling at the footman's announcement, "Madame la Comtesse de Corancez"--how could she let Andryana suspect her pain? "Well," said the Venetian, "Alvise took it very calmly. How childish it was to be afraid! We might have spared ourselves so much trouble if I had only spoken to him from the first. But," she added, "I do not regret our folly. It is such a pleasant memory. And I had told such tales about Alvise to Marius that he was afraid. What could he do to us now?" Next the Chésys arrived, Madame Chésy quivering with her new-found gayety, while Gontran was simply astoundingly impertinent as he spoke with aristocratic nonchalance of his rôle of horse-breeder in the West. "When horses are in question, poor Marsh is simply a child," he said. "But he is such a lucky fellow. At the very moment that he undertakes such an enterprise he finds me ready to hand!" "I am glad I am going to see the Americans at home," said Yvonne. "I am not sorry to be able to give them a few lessons in real _chic_."