“Pardon me,” she said in a voice that she tried unavailingly to make calm. “I had a letter here a moment ago, in an envelope. I put the envelope back in my card-case, and thought I had the letter in it, but I have not. Did you see it on the ground anywhere about here?” “No, Madame,” answered Marsac, looking her steadily in the eye,--a gaze which she as steadily returned. Madame Fleury began eagerly searching on the ground for the letter, Marsac politely assisting, and lighting matches from time to time to supply the fast-vanishing light. Marsac never had so hard a task in his life as to keep his countenance straight while he fondled the breast-pocket in which lay the document that Madame Fleury searched for so eagerly. Madame Fleury grew more and more anxious as she failed to find the paper. They were both tired with stooping, and presently sat down on the ground, facing each other, and each steadily eying the other. [Illustration] “It is so vexatious to lose a letter,” said Madame Fleury. “Yes; one might lose a love-letter,” hazarded Marsac. “Not you, Monsieur Marsac,” replied Madame Fleury, sarcastically. “True; I am not a widow,” was Marsac’s response to this shot. Then they both began crawling round again, watching each other like cats. An idea came into Marsac’s head which almost made him laugh aloud. With a great show of secrecy, he took an old bill of Landais’s from his pocket, and began to tear it up into little bits, which he scattered about. Madame Fleury saw the bits, and with as much secrecy as Marsac she began to collect them, smiling to herself: she was convinced that Marsac was tearing up the contract. Presently, Marsac lighting another match dropped it, as if by accident, upon a little pile of these pieces of paper. Madame Fleury pretended to stumble against him, nearly knocking him over, and then deftly secured the half-burned scraps. They each sat on the ground and surveyed the other with an air of triumph. “Never mind about the letter,” said Madame Fleury with a brilliant smile, clutching her precious scraps in her gloved hand; and then they both laughed. Madame Fleury rose, and shaking her skirts into place, said, “I have not seen Monsieur Fontaine; but I am not ill-satisfied with my visit.” “May I have the pleasure of escorting you to your carriage?” asked Marsac. “No, no!” cried Madame Fleury, hastily; “I have promised Monsieur Duval that he shall put me in the carriage.” A grinding of wheels on the roadway beneath them and behind the tall hedge was now heard, and Madame Fleury flew down the terrace steps as lightly as the swallow skims the ground; and then Marsac heard a vehicle rattle off. He could hardly wait until the carriage was half-way down the drive before shouting in his delight for Fontaine. But Fontaine and Claire and Delphine were all peeping round the verandah; and seeing that Madame Fleury was gone, all three came trooping toward Marsac.