I was so far from expecting this invitation that I had myself thrown away all pretexts for declining. Nevertheless I was determined to refuse it, the more so on account of the peremptory way in which it was given, much as a millionaire with money to spare might throw down a little cash. “Come, now,” he seemed to say, “strap up your valise, you are wanted.” Without troubling my conscience, therefore, I invented some pressing obligations. “But just now you did not mention any of those things,” he said. “I had not thought, then,” I replied. Raymond Cernay made an angry movement. Apparently he did not admit the possibility of the least opposition from any one, or possibly he was in a highly nervous condition. “No, no, no,” he repeated, “you will come.” “I am exceedingly sorry.” “I wish it.” I could not keep from smiling as I listened to him storming, ordering and commanding. He was ashamed of making an exhibition of his temper, and he changed his tone with a promptitude that amazed and touched me. “Yes,” he said. “I am not yet chastened. Shall I ever be? It is not easy when one has taken the wrong turn from childhood. I always knew that I could satisfy every one of my whims, and so I could not endure opposition. Even misfortune does not always succeed in humbling us. You must excuse my brusqueness.” Then he added, pleadingly: “Won’t you come with me. They are waiting for you, M. and Mme. Mairieux, and Dilette especially. Dilette wants you. She asks every one for stories, stories like yours. I cannot tell them to her; I have never learned them.” “Ah, Dilette wants me.” He dwelt upon his daughter’s wishes, until out of respect to my wild little friend, whom I was proud to have conquered, I permitted myself to be convinced, or rather to be carried off, for we left without delay, he on Zeno and I on my bicycle. My luggage would be sent for. That evening I was installed in the chateau. * * * I sincerely believe that my arrival there was a pleasure to every one. The atmosphere pervading the chateau was troubled with mists which the presence of a stranger might perhaps succeed in dissipating. I am not speaking only of Dilette, who bounded to welcome me like a dog wild with joy, but also of M. and Mme. Mairieux, who despite their long life together had neither feelings nor opinions in common, and above all of Raymond Cernay, who, to all appearances was not in a state of mental equilibrium. He had urged his daughter as a pretext to secure me, when in fact he sought assistance for himself.