Juve had left his taxi at the bottom of the hill, and, having cleared the low wall of the grounds, hid himself in view of the house. He waited until daybreak, but nothing occurred to trouble the peace and hush of the night. And then, unwilling to be seen in his evening clothes by chance passers-by, he regretfully returned to the Rue Bonaparte. XXII THE PUGILIST'S WHIM An old servant had brought out the early coffee to the arbour in the garden. It was about eight o'clock, and in the shady retreat the freshness of springtime reigned. Soon down the gravel walk appeared the well-built figure of Dixon, dressed in white flannels. He bent under the arch of greenery that led to the arbour, and seemed vexed to find that it was empty. Clearly the pugilist was not going to breakfast alone and, to while away the time until his companion should appear, he lighted a cigarette. Suddenly the door of the house opened to give passage to a gracious apparition--Josephine. Wrapped in a kimona of bright silk and smiling at the fine morning, the young woman came slowly down the steps and then stopped short, blushing. Some one came to meet her--it was Dixon. The giant, too, seemed moved. Lowering his eyes he asked: "How are you this morning, fair lady?" "And you, M. Dixon?" "Mlle. Finette, the coffee is served, won't you join me?" The two young people broke their fast in silence, exchanging only monosyllables, to ask for a napkin, a plate, the sugar. At last, overcoming his bashfulness Dixon asked in a voice full of entreaty: "Will you always be so hard-hearted?" Josephine, embarrassed, evaded the question, and with a show of gaiety to hide her confusion, remarked: "This is an awfully nice place of yours." The pugilist answered her by describing the calm and simple delights of a country life in the springtime, and, slipping his arm round her supple waist, asked her softly: "As you consented to come this far with me, why did you repel me afterwards? Why resist me so stubbornly?" "I was a trifle tipsy yesterday," she replied. "I don't know what I did or why I came here with you." And then, with a touch of sadness: "Naturally, finding me in such a place you took me for a----" "Sure enough," replied the American, "but I can see you are not like the others." "And what attracts me to you," continued Josephine, "is that you are not a brute. Why, yesterday evening, if you had wanted, when we were alone together, eh?" And she gave Dixon such a queer look that he asked himself whether she did not regard him as absurd for having respected her. "I like you very much," he said, "more than any other woman. In a month from now I shall be off to America. I have already a good deal of money and I shall earn much more out there. If you will come with me, we won't part any more. Do you agree?"