M. Jerome and the princess came streaming back over the meadow--even affected to scold me for having remained behind. They were evidently on the best possible terms, and I took great satisfaction in contemplating their happiness. Either my perspicacity was at fault, however, or both had some secret cause of uneasiness that pressed upon their minds as the day advanced. Had they been only betrayed into a declaration and a plighting of their troth in a hurry? Did they already repent? Did Madame de Mourairef regret the barbarous splendour of her native land? Did M. Jerome begin to mourn over the delights of bachelorship? These were the questions I put to myself without being able to invent any satisfactory answer. The day passed, however, pleasantly enough; and the caleche came in due time to take us back to Blois. Next morning, M. Jerome entered my room with a graceful bow, to announce his departure for Paris, whither it was necessary for him to go to obtain the necessary papers for his marriage, and Madame de Mourairef, he added, accompanied him. I uttered the necessary congratulations, and gave my address in Paris, that he might call upon me as soon as he was settled in the hotel he proposed to take. 'I take two persons with me,' he said, smiling; 'but one of them leaves her heart behind, I am afraid.' This alluded to Penelope; but I was determined not to understand. I went to say adieu to Madame de Mourairef, who seemed rather excited and anxious. Penelope almost succeeded in wringing forth a tear; but I did not think it was decreed that at my age I should really make love to a Russian serf, however charming. So off they went to the railway station, leaving me in a very dull, stupid, melancholy mood. 'What a fortunate man M. Jerome is!' said the garcon, as he came into my room a few minutes afterwards. 'Yes,' I replied; 'Madame de Mourairef seems in every way worthy of him.' 'I should think so,' quoth he. 'It is not every waiter, however fascinating, that falls in with a Russian princess.' 'Waiter! M. Jerome!' 'Of course,' replied my informant. 'You seem surprised; but M. Jerome is really a waiter at the Cafe ----, on the Boulevard des Italiens; came down for his health. We were comrades once, and I promised to keep the secret, for he thought it extremely probable that he might meet a wealthy English lady here, who might fall in love with him--your countrywomen are so eccentric. He has found a Russian princess, which is better. I suppose we must now call him Monseigneur?' Although, like the rest of my species, disposed to laugh at the misfortunes of my fellow-creatures, I confess that I pitied Madame de Mourairef; for I felt persuaded that M. Jerome had passed himself off as a very distinguished personage. However, there was no remedy, and I had no right to interfere in the matter. The lady, indeed, had been in an unpardonable hurry to be won, and must take the consequences.