"What I do know, beyond a doubt, is that the largest bead in this rosary came off one day and broke; and that the other, with its setting, went to form the trinket which I now have. You and I therefore possess the two halves of a thing which somebody else possessed twenty years ago." He went up to her and, in the same low and rather serious voice, said: "You protested just now when I declared my faith in destiny and my certainty that events were leading us towards each other. Do you still deny it? For, after all, this is either an accident so extraordinary that we have no right to admit it or an actual fact which proves that our two lives have already touched in the past at some mysterious point and that they will meet again in the future, never to part. And that is why, without waiting for the perhaps distant future, I offer you to-day, when danger hangs over you, the support of my friendship. Observe that I am no longer speaking of love but only of friendship. Do you accept?" She was nonplussed and so much perturbed by that miracle of the two broken amethysts, fitting each other exactly, that she appeared not to hear Belval's voice. "Do you accept?" he repeated. After a moment she replied: "No." "Then the proof which destiny has given you of its wishes does not satisfy you?" he said, good-humoredly. "We must not see each other again," she declared. "Very well. I will leave it to chance. It will not be for long. Meanwhile, I promise to make no effort to see you." "Nor to find out my name?" "Yes, I promise you." "Good-by," she said, giving him her hand. "_Au revoir_," he answered. She moved away. When she reached the door, she seemed to hesitate. He was standing motionless by the chimney. Once more she said: "Good-by." "_Au revoir_, Little Mother Coralie." Then she went out. Only when the street-door had closed behind her did Captain Belval go to one of the windows. He saw Coralie passing through the trees, looking quite small in the surrounding darkness. He felt a pang at his heart. Would he ever see her again? "Shall I? Rather!" he exclaimed. "Why, to-morrow perhaps. Am I not the favorite of the gods?" And, taking his stick, he set off, as he said, with his wooden leg foremost. That evening, after dining at the nearest restaurant, Captain Belval went to Neuilly. The home run in connection with the hospital was a pleasant villa on the Boulevard Maillot, looking out on the Bois de Boulogne. Discipline was not too strictly enforced. The captain could come in at any hour of the night; and the man easily obtained leave from the matron. "Is Ya-Bon there?" he asked this lady. "Yes, he's playing cards with his sweetheart." "He has the right to love and be loved," he said. "Any letters for me?" "No, only a parcel." "From whom?" "A commissionaire brought it and just said that it was 'for Captain Belval.' I put it in your room."