Lacroix glanced in the direction indicated.  Was that fashionable little lady conversing completely at her ease with one of the highest in the land indeed Marie Gourdon, the daughter of the fisherman at Father Point?  Yes; there was no mistaking her, and he wondered a little whether Marie had changed mentally as much as her outward circumstances had altered.

“So, you did know the prima donna before?” went on the little French artist.

“Oh! yes; we are both natives of Father Point, on the Lower St. Lawrence.”

“Indeed, how interesting.  Remain here a moment, and I shall ask Mademoiselle Laurentia to come over and look at your picture;” and the little man dashed off impulsively, and, detaching the prima donna from Lady D——­, brought her over to the spot where Eugene was standing.

No; she had not forgotten him, for she held out her hand and shook his warmly, saying, in the frank, sympathetic voice he remembered so well: 

“I am very glad, indeed, to see you, M. Lacroix.  Let me add my congratulations to the many you have already received.  Your picture is indeed a masterpiece.”

“Thank you.  You are, I suppose, the only one here to-day who can say whether my picture is true to nature.”

“Yes, indeed, I can; it takes me back to the old days at Father Point, and how real it all is!  There is M. Bois-le-Duc, dear M. Bois-le-Duc.  I can almost fancy I am standing on the road watching the pilgrims go into the church.”

“I am glad you like it.  By the way, I heard from M. Bois-le-Duc by yesterday’s mail.  He wrote me a long letter this time.  Would you like to read it?”

“Yes, very much,” said the prima donna, eagerly; “very much, indeed.”

“I think I have it here,” searching hurriedly through his numerous pockets.  “Ah! no; but I shall send it to you.”

“Why not bring it, M. Lacroix?”

“May I?”

“Yes.  I shall be very pleased to see you as well as the letter,” said mademoiselle, smiling graciously.  “I am always at home at five o’clock.  You know my address, number 17, The Grove, Highgate.”

“Thanks, I will come to-morrow, with your permission.  My time in London, you know, is very short, for I sail for Canada the first week of next month.”

“Indeed, so soon?  How I envy you.  I am sorry you are going, though.  Good-bye for the present, I must go back to Lady D——.  Remember, five o’clock to-morrow.”

“Au revoir, mademoiselle.  I shall see you to-morrow.”

Mademoiselle Laurentia had not left him many moments before the president crossed the room to where he was standing, and said in a cordial tone: 

“My dear Lacroix, I am happy to tell you that the prince has bought your picture.”

“‘The Pilgrimage,’ do you mean?”

“Yes, yes; you don’t seem very delighted about it.”

“Well,” said Lacroix, “the fact is that I shall miss it.  It has been part of my life for the last four years.  Oh! yes, I shall miss it.”