Adieu.
"CAMORS." The feeble rays of dawn had passed through the slats of the blinds.

The matin birds began their song in the chestnut-tree near the window.

M.de Camors raised his head and listened in an absent mood to the sound which astonished him.

Seeing that it was daybreak, he folded in some haste the pages he had just finished, pressed his seal upon the envelope, and addressed it, "For the Comte Louis de Camors." Then he rose.
M.de Camors was a great lover of art, and had carefully preserved a magnificent ivory carving of the sixteenth century, which had belonged to his wife.

It was a Christ the pallid white relieved by a medallion of dark velvet.
His eye, meeting this pale, sad image, was attracted to it for a moment with strange fascination.