"Gone to arrange about the sleeping-car." Claude slipped the libretto into the pocket of his jacket. In London he had been rather inclined to like Madame Sennier. In Constantine he felt ill at ease with her. He detected the secret hostility which she scarcely troubled to conceal, though she covered it with an air of careless indifference. Now and then a corner of the covering slipped down, leaving a surface exposed, which, to Claude, seemed ugly. To-day at this moment she seemed unable to mask entirely some angry feeling which possessed her. How different she was from Mrs. Shiffney! Claude had enjoyed Mrs. Shiffney's visit. She had rescued him from his solitude with Gillier--a solitude which he had endured for the sake of the opera, but which had been odious to him. She had warmed him by her apparent enthusiasm, by her sympathy. He had been obliged to acknowledge that she was very forgiving. He had certainly not been "nice" to her in London. Her simplicity in telling him she had felt his conduct, her sweetness in being so ready to forget it, to enter into his expectations, to wish him well, had fascinated him, roused his chivalry. But most of all had her few words by the wall after Said Hitani's music touched him, been instrumental in bringing him nearer to her. "She showed me a bit of her real self," he thought. "And she was not sorry afterward that she had shown it to me." He had made her a return for this, the return which she had wanted; but to Claude it seemed no return at all. "You are really going away to-night?" he said now. And there was a note of regret in his voice which was not missed by her. "I can't possibly leave Jacques alone any longer," said Madame Sennier. "And what have we to do here? We aren't getting local color for an opera." "No, no; of course, you want to get away!" said Claude quickly, and stiffening with constraint. "I should love to stay on. This place fascinates me by its strangeness, its marvellous position," said Mrs. Shiffney. She looked at Claude. "But I suppose we must go back. Will you take me for a last walk before tea?" "Of course." Madame Sennier passed the tip of her tongue across her scarlet lips. "Over the bridge and up into the pine-wood?" "Wherever you like." At this moment Armand Gillier walked brusquely into the room. Mrs. Shiffney turned to Henriette. "We'll leave Monsieur Gillier to take care of you." Henriette's lips tightened. Gillier said: "_Bien_, madame!" As Mrs. Shiffney and Claude left the room Gillier bowed with very formal politeness. The door shut. After a pause Gillier said: "You go away to-night, madame?" Madame Sennier sat down on a settee by a round table on which lay several copies of _L'Illustration_, in glazed black covers, _La Depeche Algerienne_, and a guide to Constantine.