“Mon Dieu! the sanglier! yes, that is also noble game. I do not deny it.” Monsieur talked on evenly and quietly in his self-possessed, reasonable voice, about the habits and the hunt of the wild boar. Ruth, sitting opposite, forcing herself to swallow the food, to answer Madame gaily and look at her ease, felt her heart settle down like lead in her breast. What was this? Oh! what was it? She looked at Mademoiselle Descartes. This young, gentle stranger with the dark hair and the face like marble, this girl whom she had never heard of until an hour ago, was hiding from Rex behind the broad shoulders of Madame Bordier. The pupils of her blue eyes were so dilated that the sad, frightened eyes themselves looked black. Ruth turned to Gethryn. He was listening and answering. About his nostrils and temples the hollows showed; the flush of sunburn was gone, leaving only a pallid brown over the ashen grey of his face; his expression varied between a strained smile and a fixed stare. The cold weight at her heart melted and swelled in a passion of pity. “Someone must keep up! Someone must keep up!” she said to herself; and turned to assure Madame in tones which deserved the name of “crystal and silver,” that, Yes, for her part she had not been able to see any reason why hearing Parsifal at Bayreuth should make one forget that Bizet was also a great master. But the strain became too great, and at the first possible moment she said brightly to Rex, “I’m going to feed Zimbach. Sepp said I might.” She collected some scraps on a plate and went out. The hound rose wagging as she approached. Ruth stood a moment looking down at him. Then she knelt and took his brown head in her arms. Her eyes were full of tears. Zimbach licked her face, and then wrenching his head away began to dance about her, barking and running at the platter. She took a bone and gave it to him; it went with a snap; so bit by bit she fed him with her own hands, and the tears dried without one falling. She heard Rex come out and stood up to meet him with clear grey eyes that seemed to see nothing but a jest. “Look at this dog, Rex! He hasn’t a word to say about the bones he’s eaten already; he merely remarks that there don’t seem to be any more at present!” Rex was taking down his gun. “Monsieur wants to see this,” he said in a dull, heavy voice. “And Ruth—when you are ready—your father, perhaps—” “Yes, I really would like to join him as soon as possible—” They went in together. An hour later they were taking leave. All the usual explanations had been made; everyone knew where the others were stopping, and why they were there, and how long they meant to stay, and where they intended to go afterward. The Bordiers, with Yvonne, were at a lake on the opposite side of the mountain, but a visit to the Forester’s house at Trauerbach was one of the excursions they had already planned. It only remained now, as Ruth said, to fix upon an early day for coming.