But the shadow of the trees began to lengthen, casting broad bars across the alle, and the sun sank lower to the level of their eyes. They were quite surprised, on looking around a few moments later, to discover that the gardens were quite deserted, and Ostrander, on consulting his watch, found that they had just lost a train which the other pleasure-seekers had evidently availed themselves of. No matter; there was another train an hour later; they could still linger for a few moments in the brief sunset and then dine at the local restaurant before they left. They both laughed at their forgetfulness, and then, without knowing why, suddenly lapsed into silence. A faint wind blew in their faces and trilled the thin leaves above their heads. Nothing else moved. The long windows of the palace in that sunset light seemed to glisten again with the incendiary fires of the Revolution, and then went out blankly and abruptly. The two companions felt that they possessed the terrace and all its memories as completely as the shadows who had lived and died there. “I am so glad we have had this day together,” said the painter, with a very conscious breaking of the silence, “for I am leaving Paris to-morrow.” Helen raised her eyes quickly to his. “For a few days only,” he continued. “My Russian customers--perhaps I ought to say my patrons--have given me a commission to make a study of an old chateau which the princess lately bought.” A swift recollection of her fellow pupil's raillery regarding the princess's possible attitude towards the painter came over her and gave a strange artificiality to her response. “I suppose you will enjoy it very much,” she said dryly. “No,” he returned with the frankness that she had lacked. “I'd much rather stay in Paris, but,” he added with a faint smile, “it's a question of money, and that is not to be despised. Yet I--I--somehow feel that I am deserting you,--leaving you here all alone in Paris.” “I've been all alone for four years,” she said, with a bitterness she had never felt before, “and I suppose I'm accustomed to it.” Nevertheless she leaned a little forward, with her fawn-colored lashes dropped over her eyes, which were bent upon the ground and the point of the parasol she was holding with her little gloved hands between her knees. He wondered why she did not look up; he did not know that it was partly because there were tears in her eyes and partly for another reason. As she had leaned forward his arm had quite unconsciously moved along the back of the bench where her shoulders had rested, and she could not have resumed her position except in his half embrace.