Such is the domestic programme, varied by excursions in the country and by occasional visits to Paris.  I am naturally a man of quiet stay-at-home habits.  It is only when my mind is disturbed that I get restless and feel longings for change.  Surely the quiet routine at St. Germain ought to be welcome to me now?  I have been looking forward to this life through a long year of travel.  What more can I wish for?

Nothing more, of course.

And yet—­and yet—­Stella has innocently made it harder than ever to play the part of her “brother.”  The recovery of her beauty is a subject for congratulation to her mother and her friends.  How does it affect Me?

I had better not think of my hard fate.  Can I help thinking of it?  Can I dismiss from memory the unmerited misfortunes which have taken from me, in the prime of her charms, the woman whom I love?  At least I can try.

The good old moral must be my moral:  “Be content with such things as ye have.”

March 15.—­It is eight in the morning—­and I hardly know how to employ myself.  Having finished my coffee, I have just looked again at my diary.

It strikes me that I am falling into a bad habit of writing too much about myself.  The custom of keeping a journal certainly has this drawback—­it encourages egotism.  Well, the remedy is easy.  From this date, I lock up my book—­only to open it again when some event has happened which has a claim to be recorded for its own sake.  As for myself and my feelings, they have made their last appearance in these pages.

Seventh Extract.

June 7.—­The occasion for opening my diary once more has presented itself this morning.

News has reached me of Romayne, which is too important to be passed over without notice.  He has been appointed one of the Pope’s Chamberlains.  It is also reported, on good authority, that he will be attached to a Papal embassy when a vacancy occurs.  These honors, present and to come, seem to remove him further than ever from the possibility of a return to his wife and child.

June 8.—­In regard to Romayne, Mrs. Eyrecourt seems to be of my opinion.

Being in Paris to-day, at a morning concert, she there met with her old friend, Doctor Wybrow.  The famous physician is suffering from overwork, and is on his way to Italy for a few months of rest and recreation.  They took a drive together, after the performance, in the Bois de Boulogne; and Mrs. Eyrecourt opened her mind to the doctor, as freely as usual, on the subject of Stella and the child.  He entirely agreed (speaking in the future interests of the boy) that precious time has been lost in informing Romayne of the birth of an heir; and he has promised, no matter what obstacles may be placed in his way, to make the announcement himself, when he reaches Rome.

June 9.—­Madame Villeray has been speaking to me confidentially on a very delicate subject.