meal the father and son, in a jerky, explosive way, made merry. For Lory
was at heart a Frenchman, and the French know, better than any, how near
together tears and laughter must ever be, and have less difficulty in
snatching a smile from sad environments than other men.

It was only as he finally cleared the table that Joan broke his habitual
silence.

"The moon is up," he said to the count, and that was all.

The old man rose at once, and went to a window, which had hitherto been
shuttered and barred.

"I sometimes look out," he said, "when there is a moon."

With odd, slow movements he opened the shutter and window, and, turning,
invited Lory by a jerk of the head to come and look. The moon, which must
have been at the full, was behind the chateau, and therefore invisible.
Before them, in a framework of giant pines that have no match in Europe,
lay a panorama of rolling plain and gleaming river. Far away towards
Calvi and the south, range after range of rugged mountain melted into a
distance, where the snow-clad summits of Cinto and Grosso stood
majestically against the sky. The clouds had vanished. It was almost
twilight under the southern moon. To the right the sea lay shimmering.

"I did not know that there was anything like it in Europe," said Lory,
after a long pause.

"There is nothing like it," answered his father, gravely, "in the world."