Then suddenly he added, "Apropos, have you heard that Eugene has become one of the leaders of these frondeur madmen ?" "Ah! Then he is quite recovered ?" "Unfortunately," he assented with a grimace, and thus our interview ended.
That day wore slowly to its close.

I wandered hither and thither in the chateau and the grounds, hungering throughout the long hours for a word with Mademoiselle--a glimpse of her, at least.
But all day long she kept her chamber, the pretext being that she was beset by a migraine.

By accident I came upon her that evening, at last, in the salon; yet my advent was the signal for her departure, and all the words she had for me were: "Still at Canaples, Monsieur?
I thought you were to have left this morning." She looked paler than her wont, and her eyes were somewhat red.
"I am remaining until to-morrow," said I awkwardly.
"Vraiement!" was all she answered, and she was gone.
Next morning the Chevalier and I breakfasted alone.

Mademoiselle's migraine was worse.

Genevieve was nursing, so her maid brought word--whilst Andrea had gone out an hour before and had not returned.
The Chevalier shot me an apologetic glance across the board.
"'T is a poor 'God speed' to you, M.de Luynes." I made light of it and turned the conversation into an indifferent channel, wherein it abided until, filling himself a bumper of Anjou, the Chevalier solemnly drank to my safe journey and good fortune in Paris.
At that moment Andrea entered by the door abutting on the terrace balcony.