“You need not walk over to the station, for M. Daniels and his daughter are going in my carriage.  I will find you a place.”

This arrangement might have necessitated the false Marseillais going into the cars and getting out at the next station; so he excused himself on the plea that the walk would please him better.

“To tell you the truth, I am bound to take exercise or die of apoplexy—­so my family doctor tells me.  By the way, I have taken leave already of Madame Clemenceau.  A Russian, you tell me?  I never should have imagined it!  Ah, one can see that you have converted her into a true French lady—­lucky man!  I can understand that you believe in lofty ideas beside a beautiful and talented woman like her!  Lucky, lucky man!”

And he turned aside, calling out as he departed: 

“I know my way! give my respects to your friends who are hunting for the Lost Tribes! ha, ha!”

This laugh, loud but not jolly as it was intended to appear, routed Clemenceau’s solemn thoughts.  It seemed, like Pan’s, from a statue, which gleamed in a vista, still to reverberate when the inventor went back to the house.  At the upper windows gleamed lights which moved to and fro, and shadows flitted across the openings; it was the usual bustle when guests are packing up, and the idea of the too quiet and lonely house, of the morrow saddens the observer.

A woman’s form darted across the lawn and made the master start.  It came along easily, and he saw that it was one familiar with the grounds.

“Hedwig!”

It was the servant who had run out to the stables to see that the horses were put to the carriage.

“Stop a minute! we are in privacy here, and I want to have a word with you.”

The girl paused, intimidated and almost frightened; she lost color as she stood, agitatedly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and averting her eyes from the speaker.  A thief caught in a felonious act would not have presented a more damning spectacle.

“Not only are we breaking up the household, Hedwig, but the house is going to other hands.  The mistress and I will live in a hotel at Paris for some time, on account of my changed business relations.  Consequently, we must dispense with your services.  Madame will, on grand occasions, have a professional hair dresser in, and so—­in a word, I must ask you to please yourself about returning to your own country, or seeking another situation in this one.  You can refer to Madame for a character; for, I believe, you have always served her faithfully.  But you need not look to her for a present, too.  Here is a couple of hundred franc notes by way of notice.  I wish you well wherever you go.”

To the amazement of the speaker, instead of accepting the token of kindness, Hedwig suddenly put both hands behind her back, and stood confounded.  Tears silently flowed down her cheeks; then, falling on her knees, she sobbed: