There was someone there in truth, and it was too late to keep silent. Uncle Antoine had overheard all. How he came to be there, prowling about and spying, in Madame d'Estrelle's garden, we shall soon learn. Marcel felt Julien's gesture, discovered the slit in the curtain, and, looking out in his turn, saw the ogre listening. He left the window and warned Madame d'Estrelle. They talked together for a moment in pantomime. They had not been able to decide what course they should pursue, when Antoine, hearing nothing more, knocked at the garden door. It was a good deal like the arrival of the statue at Pierre's festival. Julien was about to open the door, when Madame d'Estrelle, with a rapid forecast of the absurd scene to which her presence would give rise and of the deplorable outbreak which might follow if she were not present, instantly made up her mind as to her own course, detained Julien authoritatively by placing her hand on the young artist's quivering arm, and, motioning to him and to the others not to stir, she went into the vestibule, opened the door herself, and found herself face to face with Monsieur Antoine. Although he had prepared his part, he was a little surprised himself, whereas he expected to surprise everybody. "You, neighbor?" said Julie, feigning astonishment. "What are you doing here? Did you come back to my house? Who told you where I was? and what induced you to pass through my garden?" And, without waiting for his reply, she passed her arm through the horticulturist's and led him some distance from the pavilion to the shore of the little pond in the centre of the lawn in front of the mansion. "Why--I was going to the pavilion," stammered Monsieur Antoine. "So I assume, as I found you at the door." "I was going there--with kindly intentions; but----" "Who doubts it? Not I certainly, my friend." "Ah! at last you call me what I want you to call me! Very good, then you are willing to talk with me alone, I see--The same with me; I want to talk to you about an idea of mine----" "Let us sit down on this bench, neighbor, and I will listen to you; but first you must listen to me, for I have a confession to make to you." "Pshaw! pshaw! I know what your confession is; you plucked my lily, didn't you?" "Ah! _mon Dieu!_ how did you know it?" "I overheard a few words and I guessed the rest. Why need you have broken the poor flower? Couldn't you have asked me for it? couldn't you wait till to-morrow? I intended to give it to you." "But--suppose I did not do it on purpose?" "You didn't do it on purpose?" Julie felt that she was blushing, for Antoine scrutinized her closely, and there was a half bitter, half tender irony in his little black eyes. "Really," she replied, trying to save herself by a Jesuitical expedient, "the accident happened against my desire." "Good," rejoined Antoine, still staring at her, "put it that way, I like that better." "You like that better--than what?"