‘I’m in a very delicate position,’ said Darcy.  ’I’ve got to explain to you something that a man can’t explain without looking an ass.  The fact is—­of course, you see, Mr. Hugo, I did all I could for her all the time.  Not out of any special regard for her, but for Tudor’s sake, you understand.  She’s awfully beautiful, and all that.  I’ve nothing against her.  But I believe I told you last year that I had been in love once.  That “once” was enough.  I’ve done with women, Mr. Hugo.’

‘But how does this affect—­’ Hugo began to inquire, rather inimically.

’Can’t you see?  She doesn’t want to leave Paris.  I did all I could for her all the time.  I’ve been her friend in adversity, and so on, and so on, and she’s—­she’s—­’

‘What on earth are you driving at, man?’

’She’s fallen in love with me.  That’s what I’m driving at.  And now you know.’

‘My dear sir,’ said Hugo earnestly, ’if she is in love with you, you must marry her and make her happy.’

He did not desire to say this, but some instinct within him compelled him to utter the words.

‘You told me that you loved her,’ Darcy retorted.

‘I told you the truth.  I do.’

A silence ensued.  All Hugo’s previous discouragements, sadnesses, preoccupations, despairs, were as nothing in comparison with the black mood which came upon him when he learnt this simple fact—­that Camilla had fallen in love with Darcy.

‘She is still in Paris?’ he asked, to end the silence.

’I—­I don’t know.  I called at her lodgings at noon, and she had gone and left no address.’

Hugo jumped up.

‘She can’t have disappeared again?’

’Oh no; rest assured.  Doubtless a mere change of rooms.  When I return I shall certainly find a letter awaiting me.’

‘Why did you come to me?’

‘Well,’ Darcy said, ’you told me you loved her, and I thought—­I thought perhaps you’d come over to Paris, and see—­see what could be done.  That’s why I came.  The thing’s on my mind, you know.’

‘Just so,’ Hugo answered, ‘and I will come.’

CHAPTER XXIII

FIRST TRIUMPH OF SIMON

A week later, Simon and Albert stood talking together in Simon’s room adjoining the dome.  Simon had that air of absolute spruceness and freshness which in persons who have stayed at home is so extremely offensive to persons who have just arrived exhausted and unclean from a tiresome journey.  It was Albert who, with Hugo, had arrived from the journey.

‘Had a good time, Alb?’ Simon asked.

‘So-so,’ said Albert cautiously.

‘By the way, what did you go to Paris for?’

‘Didn’t you know?’

‘How should I know, my son?’

‘The governor wanted to find that girl of his.’

‘What girl?’ Simon asked innocently.

‘Oh, chuck it, Si!’ Albert remonstrated against these affectations of ignorance in a relative from whom he had no secrets.