"Besides," interrupted Jacqueline, carelessly, "your journey must
coincide with that of Monsieur Marien."

She had the pleasure of seeing her stepmother again slightly change
color. Madame de Nailles was pouring out for herself a cup of tea with
singular care and attention.

"Of course," said M. de Nailles. His daughter pitied him, and cried,
with an increasing wish to annoy her stepmother: "Mamma, don't you see
that your teapot has no tea in it? Yes," she went on, "it must be
delightful to travel in Italy in company with a great artist who would
explain everything; but then one would be expected to visit all the
picture-galleries, and I hate pictures, since--"

She paused and again looked meaningly at her stepmother, whose soft blue
eyes showed anguish of spirit, and seemed to say: "Oh, what a cruel hold
she has upon me!" Jacqueline continued, carelessly-- "Picture-galleries
I don't care for--I like nature a hundred times better. Some day I
should like to take a journey to suit myself, my own journey! Oh, papa,
may I? A journey on foot with you in the Tyrol?"

Madame de Nailles was no great walker.

"Both of us, just you and I alone, with our alpenstocks in our hands--it
would be lovely! But Italy and painters--"

Here, with a boyish flourish of her hands, she seemed to send that
classic land to Jericho!