“Such music takes me back to my youth,” she said. “All the old days of hope and promise! ... Ah! ... you will play to me often?” “Whenever you like,” answered Diana, with a thrill of tenderness in her always sweet voice,--she was beginning to feel an affection for this charming and dignified old lady, who had not outlived sentiment so far as to be unmoved by the delicate sorrows of Chopin. “You have only to ask me.” “And now,” put in Dimitrius, “as you know where you will live, you must go back to Geneva and get your luggage, in the way I told you. We’ll go together through the grounds,--it’s half an hour’s walk instead of nearly two hours by the road.” “It did not seem like two hours this morning,” said Diana. “No, I daresay not. You were eager to get here, and walking in Switzerland is always more delight than fatigue. But it is actually a two hours’ walk. Our private way is easier and prettier.” “_Au revoir!_” smiled Madame Dimitrius. “You, Féodor, will be in to luncheon,--and you, Miss May?----” “I give her leave of absence till the afternoon,” said Dimitrius. “She must return in time for that English consoler of trouble--tea!” He laughed, and with a light parting salute to his mother, preceded Diana by a few steps to show the way. She paused a moment with a look half shy, half wistful at the kindly Madame Dimitrius. “Will you try to like me?” she said, softly. “Somehow, I have missed being liked! But I don’t think I’m really a disagreeable person!” Madame took her gently by both hands and kissed her. “Have courage, my dear!” she said. “I like you already! You will be a help to my son,--and I feel that you will be patient with him! That will be enough to win more than my liking--my love!” With a grateful look and smile Diana nodded a brief adieu, and followed Dimitrius, who was already in the garden waiting for her. “Women must always have the last word!” he said, with a good-humoured touch of irony. “And even when they are enemies, they kiss!” She raised her eyes frankly to his. “That’s true!” she answered. “I’ve seen a lot of it! But your mother and I could never be enemies, and I--well, I am grateful for even a ‘show’ of liking.” He looked surprised. “Have you had so little?” he queried. “And you care for it?” “Does not everyone care for it?” “No. For example, I do not. I have lived too long to care. I know what love or liking generally mean--love especially. It means a certain amount of pussy-cat comfort for one’s self. Now, though all my efforts are centred on comfort in the way of perfect health and continuous enjoyment of life for this ‘Self’ of ours, I do not care for the mere pussy-cat pleasure of being fondled to see if I will purr. I have no desire to be a purring animal.” Diana laughed--a gay, sweet laugh that rang out as clearly and youthfully as a girl’s. He gave her a quick, astonished glance. “I amuse you?” he inquired, with a slight touch of irritation.