"Ah! And Sophie Astier?"

"Dead."

"Poor girl. Did you--did you know--"

But he ceased abruptly: And then, in a changed voice, his face suddenly
turning pale, he continued:

"No, it is best that I should not speak of that any more, it breaks my
heart."

Then, as if to change the current of his thoughts he rose.

"Would you like to go in?" he said.

"Yes, I think so."

And he preceded me into the house. The downstairs rooms were enormous,
bare and mournful, and had a deserted look. Plates and glasses were
scattered on the tables, left there by the dark-skinned servants who
wandered incessantly about this spacious dwelling.

Two rifles were banging from two nails, on the wall; and in the corners
of the rooms were spades, fishing poles, dried palm leaves, every
imaginable thing set down at random when people came home in the evening
and ready to hand when they went out at any time, or went to work.

My host smiled as he said: