had never yet succeeded in beating down his stubbornness on that
score. She did not yet despair - persistence being a dominant note
in her character - although she had been assiduously and fruitlessly
at work since her return from the great world of Versailles some
three months ago.

She was walking on the terrace when Andre-Louis and M. de Vilmorin
arrived. Her slight body was wrapped against the chill air in a
white pelisse; her head was encased in a close-fitting bonnet, edged
with white fur. It was caught tight in a knot of pale-blue ribbon
on the right of her chin; on the left a long ringlet of corn-coloured
hair had been permitted to escape. The keen air had whipped so much
of her cheeks as was presented to it, and seemed to have added
sparkle to eyes that were of darkest blue.

Andre-Louis and M. de Vilmorin had been known to her from childhood.
The three had been playmates once, and Andre-Louis - in view of his
spiritual relationship with her uncle - she called her cousin. The
cousinly relations had persisted between these two long after
Philippe de Vilmorin had outgrown the earlier intimacy, and had
become to her Monsieur de Vilmorin.

She waved her hand to them in greeting as they advanced, and stood
- an entrancing picture, and fully conscious of it - to await them
at the end of the terrace nearest the short avenue by which they
approached.

"If you come to see monsieur my uncle, you come inopportunely,
messieurs," she told them, a certain feverishness in her air. "He
is closely - oh, so very closely - engaged."