O for Paris, where, lightly and
wittily, she could humble this man! Here wit was stale on the tongue,
and every one went about with a serious purpose. She went on, her chin
tilted, her gaze lofty. The wind tossed her hair, there were phantom
roses on her cheeks which bloomed and withered and bloomed yet again.
Diane, indeed: Diane of the green Aegean sea and the marbles of Athens!
"You need go no farther, Monsieur. It is quite unnecessary, as I know
the way perfectly."
"I prefer to see you safe inside the chateau," with quiet determination.
Was this the gallant who had attracted her fancy? This was not the way
he had made love in former days. Slyly her eyes revolved in his
direction. His temples were grey! She had not noted this change till
now. Grey; and the face, tanned even in the shaven jaws, was careworn.
There was a gesture which escaped his notice. Why had she been guilty
of the inexcusable madness, the inexplicable folly, of this voyage?
"Madame, this is your door."
The Chevalier stepped aside and uncovered.
"Monsieur, you have lost a valuable art." There was a fleeting glance,
and she vanished within, leaving him puzzled and astonished by the
unexpected softening of her voice.
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