from the men and felt happily conscious that she might now enjoy his
society anywhere without fear of stupid interruptions.

"You shall see me back to my door," she said as they went down the
kitchen stairs. "I shall feel safe, in that case. Just fancy, I want to
sleep a whole night quite by myself--yes, a whole night! It's sort of
infatuation, dear boy!"



CHAPTER III


The countess Sabine, as it had become customary to call Mme Muffat de
Beuville in order to distinguish her from the count's mother, who had
died the year before, was wont to receive every Tuesday in her house in
the Rue Miromesnil at the corner of the Rue de Pentievre. It was a great
square building, and the Muffats had lived in it for a hundred years or
more. On the side of the street its frontage seemed to slumber, so lofty
was it and dark, so sad and convent-like, with its great outer shutters,
which were nearly always closed. And at the back in a little dark garden
some trees had grown up and were straining toward the sunlight with such
long slender branches that their tips were visible above the roof.

This particular Tuesday, toward ten o'clock in the evening, there were
scarcely a dozen people in the drawing room. When she was only expecting
intimate friends the countess opened neither the little drawing room
nor the dining room. One felt more at home on such occasions and chatted
round the fire. The drawing room was very large and very lofty; its four
windows looked out upon the garden, from which, on this rainy evening