"Those are the conditions, I merely make the best of them. There is still another friend of mine at Sceaux, the Chevalier Charles de la Mora, a most gallant soldier and kindly gentleman. Verily, they are scarce now in France. He has fallen into misfortunes of late and is about to take some command in the colonies. I love him much, and am sorely tempted to cast my lot with his. But, you understand why I stay," and he lifted up his hands with a gesture of perfect helplessness. "His wife, Madame Agnes--almost a girl--is one of the most beautiful and clever women in France, and who, by way of novelty, loves her own husband. Women are queer sometimes, are they not? To-morrow we go to Sceaux; it will at least be an experience to you, even should nothing good come of it. Do you agree?" My curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and scenting sport of a rare character I agreed to join the chase. It was judged best that we should make all things ready for an immediate journey to Versailles upon our return from Sceaux. Before we slept, my few serviceables were put in position for instant departure. * * * * * * When I arose in the morning Jerome had already left his bed. I supposed it was out of consideration for what he was still pleased to consider my weak condition that he refrained from waking me. Claude came tripping in later with the message that M. de Greville had gone to make some last arrangements for our journey. I slept so restfully through the night my fatigue and all unpleasant reminders of the episode at Bertrand's had quite worn away, and I felt refreshed and strong again. When Florine came to inquire for my health she found me busied about the packing. I greeted her kindly, for in truth my gratitude was deep and sincere. "Monsieur is preparing to leave?" she asked as if more than afraid of a reply. I could see she had some purpose in the question. "Yes, I leave Paris to-day." "To-day?" she echoed. "Yes, but I would return and find you again; I could not depart from France without finding and thanking you for all your kindness. In truth I am glad you came, for----." I tried to say more, but the words left my lips sounding so cold and meaningless the sentence died away incomplete. Florine stood there, vaguely watching me as though she did not understand. "Leave France?" she repeated, her tone expressing the hope she had not heard aright. I had already said much more than I intended, for I was not fully aware of Jerome's intentions, and desired to say nothing which would reveal them. "Leave France?" she urged again, "Monsieur--" she halted for the word quite naturally. "De Mouret," I supplied, and for the first time she knew my name; surely it was little enough to trust one with who had given me my life. "Monsieur de Mouret is to leave France?" "Yes," I answered her truly, "but not to-day, possibly not for several days. I would not go away without seeing you again."