Ned put the bottle to his lips, drained its contents, hiccuped lightly, then braced his shoulders. "That _is_ a pick-up," he complimented. "Too bad you didn't let me have it sooner, sir. I think I can go through the ordeal now." "One is sure you can," the Frenchman answered confidently. "Walk slowly toward the spot where you last saw Julie, if you please. We shall await you here, in easy call if we are needed." The aisle of tombs was empty as Ned left us. The turf had been fresh-mown for the day of visitation and was as smooth and short as a lawn tennis court. A field-mouse could not have run across the pathway without our seeing it. This much I noticed idly as Ned trudged away from us, walking more like a man on his way to the gallows than one who went to keep a lovers' rendezvous ... and suddenly he was not alone. There was another with him, a girl dressed in a clinging robe of sheer white muslin cut in the charming fashion of the First Empire, girdled high beneath the bosom with a sash of light-blue ribbon. A wreath of pale gardenias lay upon her bright, fair hair; her slender arms were pearl-white in the moonlight. As she stepped toward Ned I thought involuntarily of a line from Sir John Suckling: "Her feet ... like little mice stole in and out." "_Édouard, chêri! O, coeur de mon coeur, c'est véritablement toi?_ Thou hast come willingly, unasked, _petit amant_?" "I'm here," Ned answered steadily, "but only----" He paused and drew a sudden gasping breath, as though a hand had been laid on his throat. "_Chèri_," the girl asked in a trembling voice, "you are cold to me; do not you love me, then--you are not here because your heart heard my heart calling? O heart of my heart's heart, if you but knew how I have longed and waited! It has been _triste, mon Édouard_, lying in my narrow bed alone while winter rains and summer suns beat down, listening for your footfall. I could have gone out at my pleasure whenever moonlight made the nights all bright with silver; I could have sought for other lovers, but I would not. You held release for me within your hands, and if I might not have it from you I would forfeit it for ever. Do not you bring release for me, my Édouard? Say that it is so!" An odd look came into the boy's face. He might have seen her for the first time, and been dazzled by her beauty and the winsome sweetness of her voice. "Julie!" he whispered softly. "Poor, patient, faithful little Julie!" In a single stride he crossed the intervening turf and was on his knees before her, kissing her hands, the hem of her gown, her sandaled feet, and babbling half-coherent, broken words of love.