"Gee up, then! The little beast's mouth's made of iron. Jay, jay. Come up, you little devil! Take a poor hundred louis, Countess, just for luck. Give me the pleasure. Just to give me luck." "Ah, but how will I pay?" "Give me--give me that heather in your belt. White heather means good luck, don't you know." A deep sigh, one of those melancholy French sighs that are semi-groans and half-caresses, was heard; and then, as the donkey suddenly decided upon moving on with a quick patter of little hoofs, there was a complicated stamping and much joyous laughter from the Englishman, who, Ermengarde was quite sure, had been leaning his arm on the back of the lady's saddle, and just missed being tumbled down the gorge by the animal's unexpected change of mind. She had just risen from her seat, gathering that the conversation was private. Her movement brought the speakers into her line of vision, and she recognized the young Englishman on the Monte Carlo platform, the sight of whom had so perturbed the woman of mystery the day before. She had been right in supplying the lady with powder and paint. As they disappeared round the corner, she caught the gleam of orange-dyed curls, pinned on a Parisian and unsuitable hat, and the healthy glow of the young man's upturned face. Then the path was crowded by half a dozen donkeys and riders, followed by some with panniers and a few pedestrians, and in two minutes the whole company had passed noisily out of sight, leaving the mountain stillness stiller than ever. To come there, and in face of all that solemn peace and splendour, flaunt their sordid vices and petty anxieties! What had they to do in the heart of that austere mountain beauty? A vile reek of musk and cigars floated after them; they had tainted the very air in their passage over the ridge. The enchantment vanished. The mountain-peaks were all grey and cold now under some silver stars, but the sea still kept some mauve and gold and chrysolite reflections from the lucid western sky; thickening shadows stole heavily up the mountain flank; the air had a sharp edge. She went slowly back to the garden, and stood by the border of scented stocks, and was looking down the gorge to the clean-roofed town by the sea, pensive and a little homesick, when out of the lemon-tops rose a face, and then a slim figure, and recognizing the woman of mystery, she hastened to meet her with a little cry of joy. Chapter VII The Convent Steps