“Napoleon escaped from Elba, made a dash across France, and incidentally swept the Bourbon off the throne.  The last news from Europe shows him gathering armies to meet the allies.”

“Oh, sire, you should have been there!”

“Abbe Edgeworth suggests that France is well supplied with dauphins also.  Turning off dauphins has been a pastime at court.”

“Abbe Edgeworth?  You do not mean the priest you saw at Mittau?

“Confessor and almoner to his majesty.  The same man.”

“Is he here?”

“You saw him pass the door.”

“Why has he come to America?”

“I have not inquired.”

“Why is he here with you?”

“Because it pleases him, not me.”

“He brings you some message?”

“So he says.”

“What is it?”

“I have not had time to ask.”

She stood up.  As she became more herself and the spirit rushed forward in her face, I saw how her beauty had ripened.  Hoeing corn and washing in the river does not coarsen well-born women.  I knew I should feel the sweetness of her presence stinging through me and following me wherever I went in the world.

“Call the priest in, sire.  I am afraid I have hindered the interview.”

“I did not meet him with my arms open, madame.”

“But you would have heard what he had to say, if I had not been in your house.  Why am I in your house?”

“You came here.”

“Was I wandering about by myself?”

“Yes, madame.”

“I thought I must have been walking.  When I came to myself I was so tired, and my shoes were muddy.  If you want to see the priest I will go into another room.”

“No, I will bring him in and let him give his message in your presence.”

When Abbe Edgeworth was presented to her, he slightly raised his eyebrows, but expressed no astonishment at meeting her lucid eyes.  Nor did I explain—­“God has given her back her senses in a night.”

The position in which she found herself was trying.  She made him a grave courtesy.  My house might have been the chateau in which she was born, so undisturbed was her manner.  Her night wandering and mind-sickness were simply put behind us in the past, with her having taken refuge in my house, as matters which need not concern Abbe Edgeworth.  He did not concern himself with them, but bent before her as if he had no doubt of her sanity.

I asked her to resume her place on the settle.  There was a stool for the abbe and one for myself.  We could see the river glinting in its valley, and the windrows of heights beyond it.  A wild bee darted into the room, droning, and out again, the sun upon its back.

“Monsieur,” I said to Abbe Edgeworth, “I am ready now to hear the message which you mentioned to me last night.”

“If madame will pardon me,” he answered, “I will ask you to take me where we can confer alone.”