I cowered down behind the hood of the motor, and they passed without seeing me--or perhaps Miss Sharp did see me but was determined not to look--. I felt utterly alone and deserted by all the world--and the same nervous trembling came over me which once before made me suffer so, and again I was conscious that my cheek was wet with a tear. The humiliation of it! the disgrace of such feebleness!-- When they had gone by, I started forward again to watch them--I could hear the little girl cry, "Oh! look Alathea!" as she pointed to the sky, and then all three began to quicken their pace down another _allée_, in the direction of Auteuil, and were soon out of sight. Then, still quivering with emotion, I too glanced heavenward--Ye Gods! what a storm was coming on--! Where were they going? there into the deep wood?--it was a good mile or two from the Auteuil gate--They would be soaked to the skin when the rain did commence to fall--and there was a thunder storm beginning also--were they quite safe? All these thoughts tormented me, and I gave the chauffeur orders to take a road I thought might cut across the path they had followed, and when we reached the spot, I made him wait. The livid lightning rent the sky and the thunder roared like guns, and the few people in sight rushed, panic-stricken, in a hopeless search for shelter--far greater fear on their faces than they show at German bombs. My chauffeur complained audibly, as he got down to shut the car--Did Monsieur wish to be struck by lightning? he demanded, very enraged. Still I waited--but no Sharp family appeared--and at last I knew I had missed them somehow--a very easy thing in that path-bisected wood. So I told him he could drive like hell to my _appartement_ in the _Place des Etats Unis_--and off we rushed in the now torrential rain--It was one of the worst thunder storms I have ever seen in my life. I was horribly worried as to what could have happened to that little party, for that _alleé_ where I had seen them, was in the very middle of the _Bois_, and far from any gate or shelter. They must have got soaking wet if nothing worse had happened to them. And how could I hear anything about them?--What should I do? Was the Duchesse in Paris?--Could I find the address possibly from her? But would she be likely to know it? just because Miss Sharp--"Alathea"--(what a lovely Greek name!) brought bandages to the hospital? However, this was worth trying, and I could hardly wait to get out of the motor, and get to the telephone. The _concierge_ came out with an umbrella in great concern and took me up in the lift herself--and there was Burton waiting for me, he had come in by train to take me back safely later on. How I cursed my folly in not having asked Miss Sharp herself for her address! Could Burton possibly know it?--How silly of me not to have thought of that before!