She smiled. “It is the first happiness I have known.... I love him, monsieur, and he loves me. We are very happy.... Life is not good. It is very bad, but there may be the little moments of happiness, and they are most sweet. Does monsieur understand? There may be grief and loneliness to follow, but those little moments—they are all of life.... Nothing else is to be considered. It is as you say.... It may be a week, a month, but I would not lose it, not for all you promise me.... And I am constant, I am faithful.... If I must buy my little moments with this career, then I shall pay—oh, so happily. Do you not understand? At all events, one can remember them while life lasts.... They will make a long life sweet.... And so, monsieur, it cannot be. I have considered and I have chosen....” It was at this moment, the moment when Andree was surrendering her future, passing by the call of Fame and closing her ears to the knock of Opportunity, that Kendall Ware glared at her above the bushes that shut in the front of the café.... It was this moment that he saw—a wonderful, a glowing, a superb moment. He saw a miracle, and his eyes were shut so that it was not apparent to him.... Monsieur Robert was silent for a space, during which one might have told the numbers to twenty, and then he arose, very gravely, dignified now, courtly. He lifted Andree’s hand and bowed over it and his lips touched it in token of respect and of honor. “Mademoiselle,” he said, quietly, “I have said that I love you.... It is true.... I have seen a great thing, a beautiful thing.... I am proud that I have kissed your hand. From this moment I revere two women—my mother and yourself....” She smiled up at him with that quaint smile of hers, that smile which was half lost child, half banished fairy. “It is nothing ...” she said. “May I walk on with you?” he asked. She shook her head, and then extended her hand. “Good-by, monsieur,” she said. He accompanied her to the open walk. “Good-by, mademoiselle,” he said, softly, and stood looking after her until she reached the distant Panthéon and turned the corner. Then he sighed and smiled and shook his head and walked away. “The women of France!...” he said aloud, and there was a hushed wonder in his voice. CHAPTER XV