back again, and now it leapt to view, he could not hide it from his
sight, a great cross of light lying upon the dark bosom of the valley.

"Do you see, Michel?"

"Yes." The answer came back very steadily. "But so it was last night
and last year. Those three men on the Plan had it before their eyes
all night. It is no sign of disaster." For a moment he was silent, and
then he added timidly: "If you look for a sign, monsieur, there is a
better one."

Chayne turned toward Michel in the darkness rather quickly.

"As we set out from the hotel," Michel continued, "there was a young girl
upon the steps with a very sweet and gentle face. She spoke to you,
monsieur. No doubt she told you that her prayers would be with you
to-night."

"No, Michel," Chayne replied, and though the darkness hid his face,
Michel knew that he smiled. "She did not promise me her prayers. She
simply said: 'I am sorry.'"

Michel Revailloud was silent for a little while, and when he spoke again,
he spoke very wistfully. One might almost have said that there was a note
of envy in his voice.

"Well, that is still something, monsieur. You are very lonely to-night,
is it not so? You came back here after many years, eager with hopes and
plans and not thinking at all of disappointments. And the disappointments
have come, and the hopes are all fallen. Is not that so, too? Well, it is