“I owe you a thousand apologies. The merest politeness demanded that I should pay you a visit, but what shall I say? I have so many duties, so many cares! I am the president of a number of charitable committees which take up all my time. Besides, I confess, I was afraid of appearing indiscreet. I so much dread to push myself forward! Still, I thought it was time to try and bring some diversion into the nun’s life which you are leading.” “You are too kind,” said Gilberte, touched by this solicitude. “I felt, dear madame, that your days must be so dull. Your evenings especially must seem endless. How do you manage to fill them?” They had returned to the Logis. A good fire warmed the boudoir in which Gilberte liked best to sit. The lamp was lighted. There was some music on the piano. The table was heaped with books and papers. “You see, madame, I play and read: I read a great deal.” “Novels, I expect!” said the visitor, with a titter. “May I look?... What have we here? An atlas ... manuals of history ... and literature ... selected essays ... memoirs! Are you superintending somebody’s education?” “My own,” said Gilberte, laughing. “It has been a little neglected; and, as I have plenty of time....” “But many of the books are in English ... in German even....” “I know English and German.” “Quite a learned person! But how well you would get on with my son! He is so studious and cultured! He writes for the Paris papers.... Not under his own name, of course: he would never consent to commit the name of La Vaudraye to an occupation which, after all, is only an amusement. He quite agrees with me on that question ... as on every other.... Why don’t you come to us one evening? We have a few friends who are pleased to make my drawing-room their daily meeting-place.... Everybody is dying to see you, Guillaume most of all....” His mother’s description of young Guillaume de la Vaudraye was hardly of a nature to charm Gilberte from her isolation. She found an excuse. “You are making a mistake,” cried Mme. de la Vaudraye, who was irritated by her refusal. “Good friends are a necessity: they protect you against evil tongues.” “Evil tongues?” “Yes, yes, you can understand that one can’t live as you do without attracting comment in a small town. People ask themselves--and not without some justice, as you must admit--the reason of your voluntary imprisonment. All the more so because, as I hear, your servant, Adèle, keeps a silent tongue in her head; and that sets public opinion against you. Lastly, they say....” “What?” “Well, they say that you are leading such a secret existence because....” “Because what?” Mme. de la Vaudraye hesitated, or rather seemed to hesitate, and then blurted out: “Because you do not live alone.” She rose, thinking that Gilberte must be crushed under this accusation. But Gilberte, casting about ingenuously for what her visitor could have meant, repeated: