"Master Gerard," she began--and checked herself. "Please to excuse me, sir; you have set my head running on old times. What I want to say is: you were not so inquisitive when you were a young gentleman in short jackets. Please behave as you used to behave then, and don't say anything more about our lodger. I hate him because I hate him. There!" Ignorant as I was of the natures of women, I understood her at last. Cristel's opinion of the lodger was evidently the exact opposite of the lodger's opinion of Cristel. When I add that this discovery did decidedly operate as a relief to my mind, the impression produced on me by the miller's daughter is stated without exaggeration and without reserve. "Good-night," she repeated, "for the last time." I held out my hand. "Is it quite right, sir," she modestly objected, "for such as me to shake hands with such as you?" She did it nevertheless; and dropping my hand, cast a farewell look at the mysterious object of her interest--the new cottage. Her variable humor changed on the instant. Apparently in a state of unendurable irritation, she stamped on the ground. "Just what I didn't want to happen!" she said to herself. CHAPTER III HE SHOWS HIMSELF I too, looked at the cottage, and made a discovery that surprised me at one of the upper windows. If I could be sure that the moon had not deceived me, the most beautiful face that I had ever seen was looking down on us--and it was the face of a man! By the uncertain light I could discern the perfection of form in the features, and the expression of power which made it impossible to mistake the stranger for a woman, although his hair grew long and he was without either moustache or beard. He was watching us intently; he neither moved nor spoke when we looked up at him. "Evidently the lodger," I whispered to Cristel. "What a handsome man!" She tossed her head contemptuously: my expression of admiration seemed to have irritated her. "I didn't want him to see you!" she said. "The lodger persecutes me with his attentions; he's impudent enough to be jealous of me." She spoke without even attempting to lower her voice. I endeavored to warn her. "He's at the window still," I said, in tones discreetly lowered; "he can hear everything you are saying." "Not one word of it, Mr. Gerard." "What do you mean?" "The man is deaf. Don't look at him again. Don't speak to me again. Go home--pray go home!" Without further explanation, she abruptly entered the cottage, and shut the door.