"Not in triumph,--good heavens, not in triumph. This is the most awful day of my life!" She lifted her head now, throwing it backward to the slight wind, and drawing deep breaths. She expected him to urge her confidence, to ask, at least, what trouble had come to her. Already she had more than half decided to tell him all. He was a safe confidant,--one of whom her father would approve,--and--she must admit that, at times, he had clear judgment. He kept an irritating silence. Gwendolen began to fidget. "Well, don't you care whether I suffer or not? I thought you said you wanted to help me!" "I want it more than I want anything else in the world, except one thing," said Dodge, and moved two trees nearer. "Well, well," cried the other, nervously, "I shall tell you. I have been simply dying to tell somebody. To bear a suspense like this all alone is like keeping your fist in a water dyke,--or barring a door with your arm, or some of those dreadful heroic things." Hampered at first by a constantly recalled determination to maintain her dignity, she began the exciting history of the day, starting from the moment when she heard of Pierre's escape, and ending with the visit of her father and herself to the deserted Hagané mansion. Dodge listened to all with an interest that a barometer might feel. He was silent, except for a very few terse, direct questions. Not an exclamation escaped him, and not a point. As she neared the end, Gwendolen's voice gave way, and the little handkerchief was raised. Dodge moved a tree nearer. "Now tell me what you think, tell me truly. I have buried my own thoughts in the earth, and sit here on their grave." "Let my thoughts go there with yours, dear," said her companion, mournfully. "The affair is as bad as it could well be. Luck alone is going to save your friend, and from what I have seen and known of Miss Yuki, she doesn't seem marked out by good luck." She did not resent his hopelessness. Apparently she had foreseen it. The telling of her story had eased while it had wearied her. She gave a long, sobbing sigh, like a child, and let her head droop. Before she knew it Dodge's arm was around her. "I'd give my life to keep this and all other sorrows from you, Gwendolen. But all I can offer now is--myself. Come to me, darling, put your poor tired little head against me, and let me try to comfort you." The girl began to tremble piteously. In her nervous state, the brimming tears soon overflowed. "No--no--" she whispered, trying to push him off. "It is not me you love,--you are Car-car--_car_-men's! She said so. You belong to Car-Carmen!" "I belong to Carmen's cat!" cried Dodge. "What am I to Carmen or Carmen to me?" "Then you de--ceived her!"