A soft little wind was blowing, and the sun was extraordinarily bright. Luc looked up and down the street with an idle, unexplainable reluctance to knock. He did not care for the rendezvous--he did not even greatly wish to see Carola; he felt to the full the desire that had more or less possessed him of late--the desire to be alone and free--even from those things he loved and admired. When he at length did knock, the door was opened instantly, and the Countess stood the other side of the portal. He saluted her gravely, and passed into the queer, lonely garden. They stood for a moment side by side between the trunks of the poplar trees. She wore a light cloak like a man’s riding mantle, and her black hair was unpowdered. “I am glad you have come, Monsieur le Marquis,” she said. “I have come wondering why you asked me, Madame,” he answered. She led the way to the one seat beneath the wallflowers, and when they reached it turned and replied-- “I always liked you, I always wanted to serve you. Ambition is so splendid! You have the makings of a great man.” Luc coloured and looked at her gravely. “I too have always been ambitious,” she continued, with a slight nervousness; “but women tire--and they cannot achieve what men achieve.” She paused a second, then added hastily, “I can put you on the path to obtain what you desire.” Luc had the impression that she was not saying what she really wished, but was confused by some agitation into, contrary to her wont, using evasive words. “You leave me at a loss, Madame,” he answered, with a gentle dignity. “I only understand that you condescend towards me, and for that I am proudly grateful.” Carola glanced quickly at the firm yet sensitive and delicate lines of his profile--for he did not look towards her as he spoke. She seated herself, but he remained standing. “Since I was a young girl I have moved among Courts,--France, Austria, Russia,”--she said, “and I have made the acquaintance of some powerful people.” She pressed to her lips a little handkerchief embroidered with gold thread. “One is in the house now--I want you to meet him. He has, I know, a post for you, if you will accept it.” The Marquis answered earnestly-- “I only wish for some scope in which to work, Madame--the humblest position, if it will but allow me the bare chance of--some achievement.” Carola suddenly held out her hand. “I wish I knew you a little better!” she cried, with sudden passion. “I may be making a blunder, Monsieur!” Luc glanced at her in surprise. “I think you know all there is to know of me,” he replied, with a slight smile. Indeed, his life had been so simple, so open in outward action, that she might, by the simplest inquiries from M. de Biron, have elicited all of it and his character too.