and mysterious, pricked here and there with the swaying orange light of a
fishing-boat. High up, like a ring of planets brooding above the town, the
great arc of the Caux Palace lights blazed through the starlit dusk.

Tony reverted to the evening's play.

"You didn't do badly, either," he said, challengingly. "You weren't bored
to-night, were you?"

An odd little smile crossed her face.

"No, I wasn't bored," she answered quietly.




CHAPTER VII

A QUESTION OF ILLUSIONS


An air of suppressed excitement prevailed over Montricheux. It was the day
when the pretty lakeside town celebrated the Fete des Narcisses, and from
the smallest street urchin, grabbing a bunch of narcissi in his grubby
little hand and trying to induce the good-natured foreigner to purchase his
wares, to the usually stolid _hoteliers_, vying with each other as to which
of their caravanserais should blaze out into the most arresting scheme of
decoration on the great occasion, the whole population was aquiver with an
almost child-like sense of anticipation and delight. There was to be a
procession of decorated cars and carriages, a battle of flowers, and