I am waiting for Madeleine and my small nephew and niece. Here they come--she with her long veil. The passers-by think, as they meet her, of their losses of yesterday and to-morrow. "A letter for you, Michel." "Thanks." I take it nonchalantly. Where is the news, to-day, with any power to stir me? But the envelope torn the blood throbs in my temples! I can't believe.... It is from Madame Landry! She writes that she has just seen my name in the _Journal des Étrangers_ (so it still appears?). We were expected here. She and her grand-daughter would be delighted if I would go to see them, delighted, too, if my family would accompany me. She proposed a day, the day after to-morrow. I don't know where I am. My hand tightens on the letter. Jeannine has taken care not to add a word. My heart swells with bitterness. But why this proceeding? I shall not go! I cannot go! * * * * * Oh, my sister, the only friend left to me, why did I feel a longing to confide in someone, at the sight of your sweet melancholy? I began by joking: "Halloa, an invitation!" You searchingly fixed your eyes, full of affection on me. Drawing a quadrant in the sand with the end of my stick, in a toneless voice, which I force myself to render frivolous, I have told Madeleine this story. But by some subtle feeling of bashfulness, I have not made myself out as ingenuous--I should have blushed for it--as I was. I have told her that directly I saw I had been damaged I had ceased to indulge in a hope grown fond. Our continued correspondence had been a consolation prize. Then when she had tired even of this game I lost interest in it too. Madeleine has said to me, in her calm voice: "It seems to me that nothing is lost." I have protested. "I shan't go!" "You must go." "What's the use?" "Who can read in another's heart?" she murmured. And she confides in me that on the day when Victor had asked for her hand in marriage, her mother had sent for her to consult her, as was seemly. And she, who loved him--and how she loved her young, intrepid soldier! This union was her one wish--she began to sob, stammering "No," amid her tears. They were unfathomable creatures, certainly! But I smiled at my misery, and at this senseless renewal of intercourse. * * * * * Why have I obeyed her? Why have I got into this train alone? She would come next time, she assured me prettily. The rear carriage without a top races along, raising clouds of white dust. I catch frequent glimpses of the radiant stretch of water. Here is the Juan Vallauris Gulf. Now we are skirting the edges of the coast, the pearly foam frolicking almost at our feet on the pale strand.