Our two pens recorded the statement. "'The great thing to do is to go there after dinner.'" The custom was reported in duplicate. "'But I'm not going to-night,'" said the girl, "'because----'" "But----" "'--I've got to do my packing.'" I groaned. Then-- "'But I shan't go to-night,'" I declared, "'because I'm going to help a friend pack.'" I looked up cheerfully. "Yes?" "'I shall look forward," she said, smiling, "'to seeing you again--some time.'" "'Soon.'" The pretty head went to one side. "'With my love,'" she said quietly. "'Your devoted servant,'" said I. For a second my lady hesitated. Then she signed a name, crammed her letter into an envelope, and rose to her feet. The stars in the wonderful eyes had become misty, and there was a strange wistful curve to the exquisite lips. For an instant we looked at one another. Then-- "Just 'Eulalie,'" she said. The next moment she was gone. I turned to see Daphne, Adèle, and Berry a dozen paces away.... I advanced with what composure I could summon. "I have been endeavouring," I said, "to atone for this afternoon." There was a frosty silence. Then-- "So I see," said my sister icily. Berry passed a hand across his eyes. "Ugh!" he said shuddering. "I've gone all goosegogs--I mean, gooseflesh. Will she be at the Casino to-night?" My wife set a hand upon my arm. "I must admit," she said, smiling, "that she had a mouth in a million." * * * * * By half-past ten the next morning we were again upon the road. The almanack swore it was March, but here was a summer's day. Not a cloud was floating in the great blue sky: down to the tenderest breeze, the winds were sleeping: the sun was in all his glory. For earth herself, the stains of winter were being done away. Out of the country's coat the greys and browns, lately so prominent, were fading notably. As thick as fast, the green was coming in. As we rounded a bend and sailed down a long sweet hill towards the frontier, the road was all dappled with the shadows of youngster leaves. Our way seemed popular. Car after car swept by, waggons and lorries went rumbling about their business, now and again two of the Guardia Civil--well-horsed, conspicuously armed and point-device in their accoutrements--sat stiff, silent, and vigilant in the mouth of an odd by-road. Come to the skirts of Irun, we switched to the left, and five minutes later we were at Fuenterrabia. A city with a main street some four yards wide, keeping a king's palace, if hatchments be evidence, remembering more dukes than shopkeepers, its house-walls upholding a haphazard host of balconies and overhung with monstrous eaves--a pocket stronghold, set on the lip of Spain, staring at sea and land, each sunlit rood of which is fat with History--a lovely star upon the breast of Fame, chosen by English poets to enrich their songs, Fuenterrabia is among the crown jewels of Europe.