In spite of her fatigue, Odette could not sleep. She lay with wide-open eyes, staring at the dying embers on the hearth. She would see Claude the next day! What would he say to her? What would she reply? What could they say, these two that used to love one another? Not that she was afraid. She loved Paul now, and was cured of the old infatuation. But in spite of such thoughts, a dull pain was gnawing at her heart. Any slight noise, the fire-brands falling, startled her into almost a fever. She finally fell asleep, but was haunted by weird dreams all night long, and woke in the morning exhausted and nervous. Until their house-keeping arrangements were completed, they were to take their meals with the Sirvins, so Odette kept her room until lunch time, when she knew the dreaded interview must take place. As she entered the lunch room with Mme. Sirvin, she saw Claude talking to Grenoble by the window. He turned as she approached and said politely and naturally: "I hope you have recovered from the fatigue of your journey, Madame." She thanked him by a formal salutation, but she could not utter a sound. She felt as if some one had suddenly pierced her heart with a red-hot iron. She soon excused herself on a plea of headache, and returned to her room. Then slowly she drew a chair in front of the long cheval glass, and, sinking into it, gazed at her reflection. Her face was livid. Her eyes were nearly twice their natural size. She passed her hand across her cold brow, and said in a tone of utter despair: "I am lost!" At the sound of her own voice she trembled from head to foot. So all her struggles and efforts had been in vain. She had seen him, and one glance had brought the old passion back again in all its strength and power. What could she do? Where could she flee? She could implore Paul to save her, to take her away, any where; but it would break his heart. Her arms crossed, she paced up and down, nervous, feverish, almost insane. Who could help her? Perhaps Germaine. If she were to confess every thing to her sister! She would go immediately! She rang for the maid. Paul answered the summons, and, with the tender vigilance of affection, inquired if she were sick, or if any thing were the matter. Her excitement lent her strength to dissemble: "I am better, thank you. I want to see Germaine. I have a thousand things to tell her. No!--I do not care to have you go with me." She spoke quite naturally, almost smilingly, running a pin again and again into her hat, which she held in her hand. She felt that her husband must be allowed no glimpse of her anguish. And how could he have had the least suspicion? How could he know any thing of her unhappy passion?