“No, to Malmaison.” “Oh, you should go to St. Germain. M. Reinach's prehistoric museum is there. It is very beautiful. You should not go home to your country without seeing it.” “Are there monkeys in it?” asked Jeanne. “No,” said the old gentleman turning away. “I adore monkeys,” said Jeanne. The car was going along a broad empty boulevard with trees and grass plots and rows of low store-houses and little dilapidated rooming houses along either side. Many people had got out and there was plenty of room, but Andrews kept his arm round the girl's waist. The constant contact with her body made him feel very languid. “How good it smells!” said Jeanne. “It's the spring.” “I want to lie on the grass and eat violets.... Oh, how good you were to bring me out like this, Jean. You must know lots of fine ladies you could have brought out, because you are so well educated. How is it you are only an ordinary soldier?” “Good God! I wouldn't be an officer.” “Why? It must be rather nice to be an officer.” “Does Etienne want to be an officer?” “But he's a socialist, that's different.” “Well, I suppose I must be a socialist too, but let's talk of something else.” Andrews moved over to the other side of the platform. They were passing little villas with gardens on the road where yellow and pale-purple crocuses bloomed. Now and then there was a scent of violets in the moist air. The sun had disappeared under soft purplish-grey clouds. There was occasionally a rainy chill in the wind. Andrews suddenly thought of Genevieve Rod. Curious how vividly he remembered her face, her wide, open eyes and her way of smiling without moving her firm lips. A feeling of annoyance went through him. How silly of him to go off rudely like that! And he became very anxious to talk to her again; things he wanted to say to her came to his mind. “Well, are you asleep?” said Jeanne tugging at his arm. “Here we are.” Andrews flushed furiously. “Oh, how nice it is here, how nice it is here!” Jeanne was saying. “Why, it is eleven o'clock,” said Andrews. “We must see the palace before lunch,” cried Jeanne, and she started running up a lane of linden trees, where the fat buds were just bursting into little crinkling fans of green. New grass was sprouting in the wet ditches on either side. Andrews ran after her, his feet pounding hard in the moist gravel road. When he caught up to her he threw his arms round her recklessly and kissed her panting mouth. She broke away from him and strode demurely arranging her hat. “Monster,” she said, “I trimmed this hat specially to come out with you and you do your best to wreck it.” “Poor little hat,” said Andrews, “but it is so beautiful today, and you are very lovely, Jeanne.” “The great Napoleon must have said that to the Empress Josephine and you know what he did to her,” said Jeanne almost solemnly. “But she must have been awfully bored with him long before.” “No,” said Jeanne, “that's how women are.”