"Madame is proud of her guest-chamber, but she will not show it to tourists. The Marquise in Château Divant is obliged by Government to let the public come through her Park and Château every Wednesday during the summer. But our Château is not so old as hers, nor so historic." Adrienne returned to her room and went to the windows when she was left alone. There was sunshine streaming over the opposite hills, and lighting up the fresh green in the woods. The air was soft and sweet, and she drew in a long breath of it with content. "It is very quiet, very sweet here," she thought. "I shall enjoy staying here for a time." She slipped into a pale blue filmy dress, and then made her way downstairs. For a moment she hesitated as she came to the salon door, then she passed it, and made her way out into the garden at the back of the Château through an open door and down a flight of stone steps. Here she found herself in an old walled garden, with wisteria falling over the walls, pear and apple trees in full blossom, and two long untidy borders of spring flowers on either side of the vegetables. There were paths with box-hedge borders; in one shady corner was a clump of lilies of the valley. But she noticed that, though the vegetables looked well cared for, the flowers were utterly neglected, and she longed to get down on her knees and weed. Then, as she came to a blue painted door at the bottom of the garden, she slipped the bolt, and found herself facing a grassy path between trees. It was an entrance into the wood. She wandered along it, rejoicing in the fresh green above and around her. Presently she came to a seat, and from here, looking back, she had a good view of the Château and village. The quaint blue roofs, the grey wood of the houses, the scent of wood fires, and the tinkle of bells as the oxen passed along the lanes with their loads delighted her artistic soul. It was all so different from England! Dreamily she gazed around her, oblivious of time, and then horses' hoofs roused her. A rider was coming through the wood, and as she looked, she recognized Guy de Beaudessert. He dismounted directly he saw her, and held out his hand. "I thought it was a wood nymph. Have you found your way here already? Sorry I couldn't meet you, but business prevented me. I'm on my way to the stables. The farm isn't good enough for my Estelle. What do you think of her?" Adrienne looked at the glossy chestnut with a smile, and noted her proud and spirited bearing. "I think she's a darling!" she said enthusiastically. "And I'm fascinated with it all here. It's so—so romantic!" He smiled, then took a sharp turn in the woods. "Don't follow me," he said, "or you may be late for dinner, and that is displeasing to Madame. I shall be the culprit to-day. Ask her not to wait for me." So Adrienne returned the same way as she had come, and, as she entered the house, Pierre was clanging a great bell in the hall.