M. Polperro suddenly appeared at the door.  “Would M. le Comte prefer scrambled eggs or an omelette?” he asked obsequiously, and “M. le Comte” lifted his head and answered shortly, but with a smile, “Scrambled eggs, my good Polperro.”

Doubtless this was the gentleman who was brother-in-law of the French Duke mentioned by M. Girard.  He spoke to the chef with the kindly familiarity born of long knowledge.

After having given the Count his scrambled eggs, the young waitress came over to where Sylvia was sitting.  “Would Madame like to have her coffee in the garden?” she asked; and Sylvia said that she would.

How enchanting was the garden of the Villa du Lac, and how unlike any hotel garden she had ever seen!  The smooth, wide lawn was shaded with noble cedars and bright green chestnut trees; it was paradise compared with the rather stuffy little Hotel de l’Horloge and the dusty Paris streets.

M. Polperro himself brought Sylvia’s coffee.  Then he stayed on talking to her, for like all clever hotel-keepers the Southerner had the gift of making those who were staying in his house feel as if they were indeed his guests rather than his clients.

“If Madame should ever care to make a little stay at Lacville, how happy Madame Polperro and I would be!” he exclaimed.  “I have a beautiful room overlooking the lake which I could give Madame.  It was reserved for a Russian Princess, but now she is not coming—­”

“Perhaps I will come and stay here some day,” said Sylvia, and she really felt as if she would like to come and stay in the Villa du Lac.  “But I am going to Switzerland next week, so it will have to be the next time I come to France in the summer.”

“Does Madame play?” asked M. Polperro, insinuatingly.

“I?” said Sylvia, laughing.  “No, indeed!  Of course, I play bridge—­all English people play bridge—­but I have never gambled, if you mean that, monsieur, in my life.”

“I am delighted to hear Madame say so,” said M. Polperro, heartily.  “People now talk of Lacville as if there was only the Casino and the play.  They forget the beautiful walks, the lovely lake, and the many other attractions we have to offer!  Why, Madame, think of the Forest of Montmorency?  In old days it was quite a drive from Lacville, but now a taxi or an automobile will get you there in a few minutes!  Still the Casino is very attractive too; and all my clients belong to the Club!”

Sylvia stayed on for nearly an hour in the delightful, peaceful garden, and then, rather regretfully, she went up the lichen-covered steps which led into the hall.  How deliciously cool and quiet it was there.

She paid her bill; it seemed very moderate considering how good her lunch had been, and then slowly made her way out of the Villa du Lac, down across the stone-flagged courtyard to the gate, and so into the sanded road.

Crossing over, she began walking by the edge of the lake; and once more loneliness fell upon her.  The happy-looking people who passed her laughing and talking together, and the more silent couples who floated by on the water in the quaint miniature sailing boats with which the surface of the lake was now dotted, were none of them alone.