perhaps, or are in bed, or are breakfasting. It is still
early."

"That little girl," said Horace--"does she belong to the
house?"

"You mean the little girl who ran against me as I came up to
you just now? No, the _propriétaire_ of the hotel has but one
daughter, Mademoiselle Cécile, a most amiable person. But I
know that child--her father is one of the _habitués_ of the
hotel. She is much to be pitied, poor little one!"

"Why?" asked Graham.

"Because her father--_ah! bon jour, Madame_--excuse me, Monsieur,
but I go to pay my respects to Madame la Comtesse!" cried the
Belgian, as an elderly red-faced lady, with fuzzy sandy hair,
wearing a dingy, many-flounced lilac barége gown, came towards
them along the gravel path.

"At last we see you back, my dear Monsieur!" she cried--"ah!
how many regrets your absence has caused!--of what an
insupportable _ennui_ have we not been the victims! But you are
looking better than when you left us; your journey has done
you good; it is plain that you have not suffered from
absence."

"Alas! Madame," cries the other, "you little know! And how,
for my part, can I venture to believe in regrets that have
left no traces? Madame is looking more charming, more