"My dear goddess, what dreams we two have had, you and I! We used to wait together. For whom? For the Blue Bird ... for Prince Charming. The prince was to arrive on horseback, one day, jump the garden-wall and carry me off, slung across his saddle. He was to slip through the trees, one evening, and go up the steps on his knees, sobbing. And all the vows I made to my dear goddess! Just think, Philippe: I promised her never to bring a man into her presence unless I loved him! And I kept my promise. You are the first, Philippe." He flushed red in the dark; and she continued, in a voice the gaiety of which rang false: "If you only knew how silly a girl is, dreaming and vowing things! Why, I even promised her that that man and I should exchange our first kiss before her. Isn't it ridiculous? Poor goddess! She will never see that kiss of love; for, after all, I don't suppose you intend to kiss me?" "Suzanne!" "Well, did you? There's no reason why you should; and the whole thing's absurd. So you will admit that this dear goddess has no sense and that she deserves to be punished." With a quick movement of the arm, she gave a push to the statue, which fell to the ground and broke into halves. "What are you doing?" he cried. "Leave me alone ... leave me alone," said Suzanne, in an angry voice. It was as though her action had loosed in her a long-contained fury and wicked instincts which she was no longer able to control. She rushed forwards and madly kicked and raged at the broken pieces of the statue. He tried to interfere and took her by the arm. She turned upon him: "I won't have you touch me!... It's your fault.... Let me go ... I hate you!... Yes, it's all your fault!..." And, releasing herself from his grasp, she fled towards the house. The scene had not lasted twenty seconds. "Hang it!" snarled Philippe, though he was not in the habit of swearing. His irritation was so great that, if the poor plaster goddess had not already been reduced to fragments, he would certainly have flung her from her pedestal. But, above all things, he was swayed by one idea: to go away, not to see Suzanne again and to have done with this nonsense, of which he felt all the hatefulness and absurdity. He also quickly made his way back to the house. Unfortunately, knowing no other outlet by which to escape, he went through the passage. The dining-room door was open. He saw the girl sitting huddled in a chair, with her head between her hands, sobbing. He did not know how artificial a woman's tears can be. Nor did he know the danger in those tears for him who is moved by the sight of their flowing. But, had he known it, he would just the same have stayed; for man's pity is infinite. CHAPTER VII EVE TRIUMPHANT "There!" she said, after a few minutes. "The storm is over." She raised her beautiful face, now lit with a smile: "No black on my eye-lashes, you see," she added, gaily. "No rouge on my lips.... Take note, please.... Nothing that comes off!"