The following day, after breakfast, Mlle.

Moriaz was walking alone on the terrace.

The weather was delightfully mild.

She was bare-headed, and had opened her white silk umbrella to protect herself from the sun; for Samuel Brohl had been a true prophet--there was sunshine.

She looked up at the sky, where no trace was left of the wind-storm of the preceding evening, and it seemed to her that she never had seen the sky so blue.
She looked at her flower-beds, and the flowers that she saw were perhaps not there.