Hot-foot to Sceaux again I rode on my way to Dieppe, and from the same embrasure at the wall where my horses had trampled down the foliage many times, I watched her coming. It was not for long. More hurriedly than was her custom she glided, a glorified young creature, in and out amongst the shrubbery, until the envious chapel door hid her from my sight. No living thing was in view. The sound of no discordant voice broke the holy peace of God. Temptation came never to our first erring mother in more insidious guise than this. Where was the harm, I reasoned, it was but for an instant's speech with her, ere the bounding seas would roll between us. So with nervous haste I tumbled from my horse and tethered him stoutly to a tree. Over the wall and to the chapel door took another instant, and there, inside, at the rail, she knelt. I paused, as a sinner might, hesitating to mar with heart profane the devotions of a saint. My foot struck a cracking board in the entry, and drew her glance toward me. She sprang up as I entered, with a swift cry of surprise, and, as I fancied, some whit of gladness in the tone. "You, Monsieur? You here? I thought you away from Sceaux." "Yes, Madame, true; but I returned to speak with you before I leave France forever. I came here to--to--" I could not tell her why; my heart, so full, clogged my utterance. But women ever understand. As I cast about me for a word, we had drawn closer, and taking the hand which half-hid in the folds of her dress, gleamed more white and pure, I would have raised it to my lips. Even at such a time I noted the device upon a ring she wore, a device grown so familiar: A wolf's head, sable. "An old thing of my mother's," she explained, "Charles has one, and I." I eagerly seized upon a subject which might so naturally prolong our interview. "Aye, I know the device well; are you of the d'Artins?" "Yes, my mother was; there are now none of the race. The last is a wanderer; I know not if he lives." "I know, perchance, of such a man, Madame; would you tell me more of him, of yourself?" "I never saw him, my mother's father. Her marriage displeased him greatly. When her first child was born, a girl, she sent it to him for his blessing. He denied it, saying he wanted no more of women. The child died in infancy. Of my sister's birth and mine he was never told. Then he went away, where, none know." It thrilled me with a new hope. Who could guess but my relations with Colonel d'Ortez might throw me again in her way. I took her hand again, making pretence to examine the ring more curiously. She made slight demur, and I pressed my first fervent kiss upon the hand of woman. Man's fortitude could stand no more. Tossing honor, discretion, duty to the winds, I folded her close, closer yet, and kissed her brow, her hair, her eyes--her lips, she struggling like a frightened nestling all the while. It was done.