We remained for some moments in silence, and it was she who at length broke it.
"Thank you," she said, "for all your thought and care in verifying the details of the story you have told me." "I might have kept it from you, Madame," answered I, "and thus spared you some sorrow.

Perhaps you had been happier in ignorance." "I think, my dear friend, I am better knowing it.

Shall we tell Lucille ?" I turned and looked at Madame, whose manner bespoke my attention.
There was more in the words than a single question--indeed, I thought there were many questions.
"That shall be as you decide." "I ask your opinion, mon ami ?" "I am not in favour of keeping any secrets from Mademoiselle." For a time Madame seemed lost in thought.
"If you go to the chateau," she said at length, taking up her lace-work as she spoke, "you will find Lucille either in the garden or the chapel, where she daily tends the flowers.

Tell her anything--you please." I left Madame and walked slowly across the garden.

Lucille was not among the gay flower-borders.