curiosity, therefore a great treasure; and this treasure belongs to me.
I brought her here, I am responsible for her, she obeys my orders.'"

"But does he tell you all this, or do you guess it?"

"We talk of this and that."

That night in the mess-room the Russian leant across the table to Fanny.

"What is man's mystery to a woman if she lives surrounded by him?"

"Oh, but that's not necessary ... mystery!"

"It _is_ necessary to love."

"Colonel Dellahousse," explained the lieutenant, smiling very much,
"does not believe that you can love what you know."

The Russian nodded. "Love is based on a fabulous belief. An illusory
image which fills the eyes of people who are unused to each other. This
poor lady will soon be used to everything."

Fanny, who felt momentarily alarmed, suddenly remembered Julien.

"When do we go back?" she asked absently.

The sympathetic eyes of the lieutenant seemed to understand even that,
and he smiled again.

They left next day, after the midday meal.