abruptly that he was tired of Germany, and should set off at
once for Paris. Madelon had noticed the alteration in her
father less than anyone else perhaps; she was used to changes
of fortune, and whatever he might feel he never showed it in
his manner to her; outwardly, at least, this summer had
appeared to her very similar to any preceding one, and she was
too much accustomed to M. Linders' sudden moves, to find
anything unusual in this one, although, dictated as it was by
a caprice of weariness and disgust, it took them away from the
Germany tables just at the height of the season. Once more,
then, the two set out together, and towards the middle of
August found themselves established in their old quarters in
the Paris Hotel, where Madame Linders had died, and where
Madame Lavaux still reigned head of the establishment.


PART II.


Chapter I.

After five Years.


One evening, about three weeks after their arrival in Paris,
Madelon was standing at a window at the end of the long
corridor into which M. Linders' apartment opened; the moon was
shining brightly, and she had a book in her hand, which she
was reading by its clear light, stopping, however, every
minute to gaze down into the front courtyard of the hotel,