All the windows in the front of the house were tear-stained at the base by the winter rains.

A modern entrance, with double flights of steps decorated by four vases containing four dead aloe-stems buried in straw, betrayed the cultivated taste of the handsome Leon.

I expected to see the shadow of a living being....  No human outline broke the tranquil shade of the trees.

An accursed dog, man’s worst enemy, barked furiously, and made violent efforts to break his rope and fly at me....  I hope he is tied with a gordian knot if he wishes to see the setting sun!

Finally a gardener enjoying a sinecure came to enliven this landscape without a garden; he strolled down the avenue with the nonchalance of a workman paid by the handsome Leon.

I am able to distinguish among the gravest faces those that can relax into a smile at the sight of gold.  The gardener passed before me, and after he had bestowed upon me the expected smile, I said to him: 

“Is this Mad. de Lorgeville’s chateau?”

He made an affirmative sign.  Once more I bowed to the genius of the Jerusalem street goddess.

I said to the gardener in a solemn tone:  “Here is a letter of the greatest importance; you must hand it to Mlle. de Chateaudun when she is alone.”  I then showed him my purse and said:  “After that, this money is yours.”

“The sweet young lady!” said the gardener, walking off towards the chateau with the gold in one hand, the letter in the other, and the purse in his eye—­“The good young lady! it is a long time since she has received a love-letter.”

I said to myself, The handsome Leon does not indulge in letter-writing—­he has a good reason for that.

The following is the letter carried by the gardener to the chateau:—­

“Mademoiselle,—­

“Desperate situations justify desperate measures.  I am willing to believe that I am still, by your desire, undergoing a terrible ordeal, but I judge myself sufficiently tried.

“I am ready for everything except the misery of losing you.  My last sane idea is uttered in this warning.

“I must see you; I must speak to you.

“Do not refuse me a few moments’ conversation—­Mademoiselle, in the name of Heaven save me! save yourself!

“There is in the neighborhood of the chateau some farmhouse, or shady grove.  Name any spot where I can meet you in an hour.  I am awaiting your answer....  After an hour has passed I will wait for nothing more in this world.”

The gardener walked along with the nonchalance of the man of the Georgics, as if meditating upon the sum of happiness contained in a piece of gold.  I looked after him with that resignation we feel as the end of a great trial approaches.

He was soon lost to view, and in the distance I heard a door open and shut.

In a few minutes Mlle. Chateaudun would be reading my letter.  I read it over in my own mind, and rapidly conjectured the impression each word would make upon her heart.