"Why did you come?" asked the count, suddenly.

It seemed as if his mind lay hidden under the accumulated _debris_ of the
years, as the old chateau perhaps lay hidden beneath that smooth turf
which only grows over ruins.

"I do not know," answered Lory, thoughtfully. Then he turned in his quick
way, and looked at his father with a smile. "Perhaps it was the good God
who put the idea into my head, for it came quite suddenly. We shall grow
accustomed to each other, and then we may find perhaps that it was a good
thing that I came."

The count looked at him with rather a puzzled air, as if he did not quite
understand.

"Yes," he said at length--"yes; perhaps so. I thought it likely that you
would come. Do you mean to stay?"

"I do not know. I have not thought yet. I have had no time to think. I
only know I am hungry. Perhaps Jean will get me something to eat."

"I have not dined yet," said the count, simply. "Yes; we will dine."

He rose, and, going to the door, called Jean, who came, and a whispered
consultation ensued. From out of the _debris_ of his mind the count
seemed to have unearthed the fact that he was a gentleman, and as such
was called upon to exercise an unsparing hospitality. He rather impeded
than helped the taciturn man, who seemed to be gardener and servant all
in one, and who now prepared the table, setting thereon linen and glass
and silver of some value. There was excellent wine, and over the simple