He spent several black days, then gave orders, in one of the galleries of his museum, for one of those untimely upheavals which drive the amateur wild. M. Hervart needed to distract himself. After a week, Gratienne grown anxious, sent him an express letter. He yielded to the suggestion and that evening made an attempt which Bouret would have considered premature. However, it succeeded marvellously well and M. Hervart felt new life spring within him. The next day, as he was in excellent spirits, he wrote to Rose, whose prolonged silence had ended by pricking his self-satisfaction. CHAPTER XV On reaching Barnavast, Leonor had found two letters; which of the two interested him the more he could not tell. One was from M. Des Boys, asking him to come and finish, before the winter, and immediately, if he could, the alterations at Robinvast. A room was ready for him. He had but to give them warning, and they would send for him. The second came from La Mesangerie. It was a diary. "15th September. What are my children's kisses after the kisses of my lover? It is like the smell of the humble pink after the heady perfume of the rarest flowers.... "What a fool the woman is," said Leonor inwardly. "Why does she write. She has intelligence, her conversation is agreeable, she has taste, and see what she writes! God, how melancholy!..." "... But pinks have their charm, just as they have their own season, and I am happy to come back to them, since their season has returned." "That," thought Leonor, "is better; it's almost good.... Is Hervart still at Robinvast? I hope not. His holiday wasn't indefinite, I should think. Suppose I wrote to Gratienne?" "... You flowers that the touch of my Beloved made to blossom in my heart, you perfume my soul, you intoxicate my senses...." "Intoxicate my senses.... Is it necessary to remember myself to Gratienne? I would as soon get my information from another source." "... intoxicate my senses. My body trembles at the thought of the night at Compiègne, every moment of which is a star that shines in my dreams. I did not know what love was...." "Who does know what love is?... I don't feel bound to answer that to-day. Now I come to think of it, I don't know where Gratienne is. She must have left almost at the same time as I did. Let's leave it at that...."