Bulstrode wandered slowly up from the Versailles station to the Hôtel des Reservoirs, crossed the broad square of the Palace Court, found the pink and yellow façade more mellow and perfect than ever, and toward twelve-thirty strolled into the yard of the old hostelry. Breakfast had been set for twelve-thirty, but his host was not there. "Ah--mais, bon jour, Monsieur Bulstrode!" The proprietor knew and appreciated this client greatly. Monsieur Falconer, it seemed, had been called suddenly to Paris.... Yes--well--there were, now and then, in the course of life, bits of news that could be borne with fortitude. "And Madame has also been called to Paris?" "Mais non!" Madame had a few minutes since gone out in the Park, the proprietor thought she would not be very far away. Bulstrode thanked him, and crossed over to the hedge and the gateway and through it to the Palace Gardens. On all sides the paths stretched broad and inviting toward the various alleys, and upon the terrace to his left there shone a thousand flowers in June abundance. The gentleman chose the first path that opened, and went carelessly down it, and in a few moments the pretty ring of an embowered circle spread before him, but, although there was an inviting marble bench under a big tree at one side, and several eighteenth century marbles on their pedestals, illuminated by the bland eighteenth century smile, there was not a living woman in sight to make him, the visitor, welcome! He went a little further along and found another felicitous, harmonious circle, where a small fountain threw its jets on the June air. At the sound of the water Bulstrode remembered that the Grands Eaux were to play on this afternoon at Versailles. "Ah, _that_ is why they especially wanted me to come out to-day," he decided. On the other side of the fountain, the vivid white of her summer dress making a flash like moonlight on the obscurity of the woods, a lady was standing looking across at Mr. Bulstrode. "Hush!" she said; "come over softly, Jimmy; there is a timid third party here." On a branch at her side, where an oriole sat, his head thrown back, his throat swelling, there was a little stir and flutter of leaves, for although the lady had put her finger to her lips, her voice broke the spell, and a bit of yellow flashed through the trees. "I don't believe _he_ will ever forgive you!" she cried; "you spoiled his solo, but I'll forgive you. What brought you out to Versailles to-day?" "The fountains," Bulstrode told her; "I have never seen them play. Then, too--there are certain places to which, when I am asked to luncheon, I always go." "That's quite true," she accepted; "you _were_ invited!--but, to be perfectly frank, I did not expect you, so your coming on this occasion has only the pleasure of a surprise. As a rule, I hate them. My husband informed me that he would telephone you to meet him in Paris, but I think he must have forgotten you, Jimmy."