paused, and looked round him--"except a spade, perhaps, and that is what
this garden wants."

They were very grave about it, and sat down on a rough seat built by
Mattei Perucca, who had come there in the hot weather.

"Then what is to be done?" said Denise, simply.

For the French--the most intellectually subtle people of the world--have
a certain odd simplicity which seems to have survived all the changes and
chances of monarchy, republic, and empire.

"I do not quite know. Have you not a man?"

"I have nobody, except a decrepit old man, who is half an imbecile," said
Denise, with a short laugh. "I get my provisions surreptitiously by the
hand of Madame Andrei. No one else comes near the Casa. We are in a state
of siege. I dare not go into Olmeta; but I am holding on because you
advised me not to sell."

"I, mademoiselle?"

"Yes; in Paris. Have you forgotten?"

"No," answered Lory, slowly--"no; I have not forgotten. But no one takes
my advice--indeed, no one asks it--except about a horse. They think I
know about a horse." And Lory smiled to himself at the thought of his
proud position.

"But you surely meant what you said?" asked Denise.