Bessie’s little temper had the better of her for a minute or two.  She was very angry with herself, would never forgive herself, she said, if by her own trivial fault she had thrown away this favor of kind Fortune.  What must she do, what could she do, to retrieve her blunder?  Where seek for him?  How find him?  She quivered, grew hot and cold again with excitement.  Should she go to the Green Square?—­he was sure to visit that quarter.  Then she remembered a high window in the canon’s house that commanded the open spaces round the cathedral; she would go and watch from that high window.  It was a long while before she arrived at this determination; she waited to see if the strangers would return to the beautiful chapter-house, to admire its fine tesselated floor and carved stalls, and its chief treasure in the exquisite ivory crucifix of the unfortunately famous princess De Lamballe; but they did not return, and then she hastened home, lest she should be too late.  Launcelot was plying his water-can for the sixth time that morning when she entered the court, and she stood in an angle of shadow to feel the air of the light shower.

“Here she is, and just the same as ever!” exclaimed somebody at the salon window.

Bessie was startled into a cry of joy.  It was Harry Musgrave himself.  Madame Fournier had been honored with his society for quite half an hour while his little friend was loitering and longing pensively in the cathedral.  All that lost, precious time!  Bessie never recollected how they met, or what they said to each other in the first moments, but Babette, who witnessed the meeting through the glass door at the end of the hall which opened on the terrace, had a firm belief ever afterward that the English ladies and gentlemen embrace with a kiss after absence—­a sign whether of simplicity or freedom of manners, she could not decide; so she wisely kept her witness to herself, being a sage person and of discreet experiences.

They returned into the salon together.  It was full of the perfume of roses, of the wavering shadow of leaves on the floor and walls and ceiling.  It looked bright and pretty, and madame, with suave benignity, explained:  “I told Mr. Musgrave that it was better to wait here, and not play hide-and-seek; Bessie was sure to come soon.”

“I saw you in the cathedral, Harry; you passed close by me.  It was so difficult not to cry out!”

“You saw me in the cathedral, and did not run up to me?  Oh, Bessie!”

“There were two other gentlemen with you.”  Bessie, though conscious of her wickedness, saw no harm in extenuating it.

“If there had been twenty, what matter?  Would I have let you pass me?  If I had not found courage to seek you here—­and it required some courage, and some perseverance, too—­why, I should have missed you altogether.”

Bessie laughed:  here were they sparring as if they had parted no longer ago than yesterday!  Then she blushed, and all at once they came to themselves, and began to be graver and more restrained.