"I hope that I shall see you again before long," he said, "but nothing seems certain--not even the meeting of friends. I should like to thank you now for some pleasant days and evenings. You have brought a good deal of sunshine into my life, since I knew you first. I like to think that, neither in deed nor intention, I have ever deliberately done you or Harry any harm. I hope you will go on taking as much care of him, and making him as perfectly happy as you have done. Perhaps I have vexed you both, lately; but all that is over, and I fancy the punishment will be proportionate to the offense before it is ended. Farewell. Don't forget me sooner than you can help; and while you do remember me, think of me as kindly as you can." He leaned over her as he finished speaking, and his lips just brushed her smooth forehead. When Charles the martyr embraced his children an hour before his death, they received no purer or more sinless kiss. A sob choked Fanny's voice when she would have replied; and the beautiful brown eyes were so dim with rushing tears, that they never saw him go. Keene's last visit in Dorade was to the Vicomte de Chateaumesnil. The latter manifested no surprise at the sudden departure, and expressed his regrets with a perfectly calm courtesy. But, at the moment of leave-taking, he detained the other's hand for a second or so and said, looking wistfully in his face, "Ainsi, vous partez seul? je ne l'aurais pas cru; et, je l'avoue franchement, ca me contrarie. N'importe; je connois votre jeu; et je ne vous tiens pas pour battu, quand c'est manche a. Ce serait une betise, de dire--'au revoir.' Adieu; amusez vous bien." Royston shook his head impatiently; he was too proud to save his credit by dissembling a defeat; and his reply was quick and decisive. "Vous me flattez, M. le Vicomte. Quand on perd, on doit, au moins l'avouer loyalement, et payer l'en jeu. Cette fois j'ai tant perdu, que je ne prendrai pas la revanche." Not another word was exchanged between them; but Armand had accepted repulses in his time with more equanimity than he could muster when ruminating afterward on the discomfiture of Royston Keene. Some days later the subject was discussed at the Cercle, and one of the _habitues_ hazarded several cunning conjectures, and more than cynical surmises. (Did you ever hear a thoroughly profligate Frenchman sneer a woman's character away? It is almost worth while overcoming your disgust to listen to the diabolical ingenuity of his innuendoes. The scandal of our bitterest dowagers sounds charitable by comparison.) The savage outbreak of the Algerian's temper, that every one had long been expecting, came at last with a vengeance.