"And so, you see," said Adèle, slipping an arm through mine, "Piers has wares to offer me which you haven't. The shame of it is, he won't offer them. Still, he's very nice. The way in which he solemnly takes us all for granted is most attractive. He's as natural as a baby a year old. He just bows very courteously and then joins in the game. The moment it's over, he makes his bow and retires. We call him Piers: he calls us by our Christian names--and we haven't known him a week. It's not self-confidence; it's just pure innocence." "I confess it's remarkable," said I. "And I don't wonder you like him. All the same, I'm sorry----" "There!" cried Adèle suddenly, pointing across the lawn. "Boy, he's gone in again." I reached the edge of the ornamental water in time to observe the Sealyham emerge upon the opposite bank. "You naughty dog," said I. "You naughty, wicked dog." Nobby shook himself gleefully. "No, don't come across. Go round the other way. Go back!" The dog hesitated, and, by way of turning the scale, I threw my stick for him to retrieve. As this left my hand, the hook caught in my cuff, and the cane fell into mid-stream.... As Nobby climbed out with the stick, the park-keeper arrived--a crabbed gentleman, in a long blue cloak and the deuce of a stew. The swans, he said, would be frightened. (There was one swan, three hundred yards away.) Always they were being pursued by bold dogs. _Mon Dieu_, but it was shameful. That hounds should march unled in the Parc Beaumont was forbidden--absolutely. Not for them to uproot were the trees and flowers planted. Where, then, was my attachment? And I had encouraged my dog. Actually I had made sport for him. He had seen the deed with his eyes.... One paw raised, ears pricked, his little head on one side, his small frame quivering with excitement, his bright brown eyes alight with expectation, a dripping Nobby regarded us.... I took a note from my pocket. "He is a wicked dog," I said. "There. He pays his fine. As for me, I shall be punished enough. My home is distant, and I was to have driven. Now he is wet and must grow dry, so I must walk. I will think out his punishment as I go." And, with that, I hooked my cane to the delinquent's collar and turned away. "_Pardon, Monsieur._" The old fellow came shambling after us. "_Pardon_, but do not punish him, I pray you." Nobby screwed round his head and looked at him. "Oh, but how handsome he is! Perhaps he did not understand. And I should be sorry to think ..." Nobby started towards him and moved his tail. "See how he understands. He has the eyes of a dove." He stooped to caress his _protégé_. "Ah, but you are cold, my beauty. Unleash him, _Monsieur_, I pray you, that he may warm himself. I shall not notice him." As I did his bidding, and Nobby capered away, "_Bon,_" he said pleasedly. "_Bon. Au revoir, mon beau._" He straightened his bowed shoulders and touched his hat. "_A votre service, Monsieur._"