"Differences? There need be none; my love for him is dead," Gabrielle remarked slowly, so absorbed in the contemplation of shattered Penates as to pass unheeded the gleam of triumph on the face that was so near her shoulder. "You may tell him, if you like, that I shall not behave ill to him, because he has outraged me. A fair allowance shall be regularly paid to him, or to you if he prefers it. Monsieur Galland is coming here this afternoon about my testament, and the arrangement shall be carried out at once." Then after a gloomy pause, she added with a sigh, "To think he could ever suppose that I should want him to ask me favours!" So her unrequited and too persistent love had perished of starvation! It was dead--quite, quite dead, at last! With its last struggle how great a barrier was swept away, and how much better was the chance for one who had obstinately persevered! Excellent! The empty shell was ready for the hermit crab! Pharamond could see ultimate triumph, within measurable distance, and after that a ripe revenge. A fair allowance regularly paid? Gilded, degrading slavery! Clovis would repudiate the plan; refuse to have anything to do with it. But what was this about a will? "M. Galland--about your will, this afternoon?" the abbé echoed with raised brows. "On whose advice are you acting? I declare you are marvellously changed, every inch a woman of business. Pooh, pooh! Is there not ample time? For a beautiful young creature like yourself to prate of such grisly things seems like an untimely invitation to the worms." "Little I care for life, God knows!" sighed Gabrielle, wearily, "were it not for----" "Yes, yes, I know--the cherubs. About this will. It takes me by surprise, and you have deigned to trust me. Your pardon if I seem importunate. I scarcely dare to ask, and yet----" "What its conditions are to be? There need be no secret as to that, since my mind is quite made up. I intend to leave my dear father's fortune to my mother, in trust for Victor and Camille?"