Is it the world that fits itself to our humour, or does the Creator mould our thoughts with wind and sky, light and shade?
As I neared the Chateau my heart sank within me, for I had but evil news for the lady whom I respected above all women, save one--and how would Madame take my tidings?
It seemed best to ask her to speak to me alone, for much that I had to relate was surely for the wife's ear, and would need to be tempered to the daughter's hearing.

This expedient was, however, spared me, for as I approached the old Chateau I noted the presence of some one in the trellis-covered summerhouse at the eastern end of the terrace, and caught the flutter of what seemed to be a white handkerchief.

It was, I soon perceived, Madame at her lace-work--and alone.
Leaving the road I took a path through the olive groves and came upon Madame, not however by surprise, for she saw me approaching and laid aside her work.
"So you have come at last," she said, holding out her kind hand.
We went into the vine-grown hut and sat down, Madame looking at me with deep speculation.
"You are a strong man, mon ami," she said.

"For one sees no signs in your face of what you have gone through." But it was not of myself that I had come to talk.

The tale had to be told to Madame de Clericy, and being a plain-spoken Englishman and no hero of a book, I purposed telling it briefly without allegory or symbol.
"Madame," I said, "it was not Miste who took the money.