It so happened that at the most riotous moment of the picnic an old gentleman passed near the lively crowd.  He was quite inoffensive, pleasant-mannered, and walked leaning on his cane, yet, had the statue of the Commander in Don Juan suddenly appeared it could not have produced such consternation as his presence did on Jacqueline, when, after a moment’s hesitation, he bowed to her.  She recognized in him a friend of Madame d’Argy, M. Martel, whom she had often met at her house in Paris and at Lizerolles.  When he recognized her, she fancied she had seen pass over his face a look of painful surprise.  He would surely tell how he had met her; what would her old friends think of her?  What would Fred?  For some time past she had thought more than ever before of what Fred would think of her.  The more she grew disgusted with the men she met, the more she appreciated his good qualities, and the more she thought of the honest, faithful love he had offered her—­love that she had so madly thrown away.  She never should meet such love again, she thought.  It was the idea of how Fred would blame her when he heard what she pictured to herself the old gentleman would say of her, that suddenly decided her to leave Bellagio.

She told Mr. Sparks that evening that she was not strong enough for such duties as were required of a companion.

He looked at her with pity and annoyance.

“I should have thought you had more energy.  How do you expect to live by work if you are not strong enough for pleasure?”

“Pleasure needs strength as well as labor,” she said, smiling; “I would rather work in the fields than go on amusing myself as I have been doing.”

“My dear, you must not be so difficult to please.  When people have to earn their bread, it is a bad plan.  I am afraid you will find out before long that there are harder ways of making a living than lunching, dancing, walking, and driving from morning to night in a pretty country—­”

Here Mr. Sparks began to laugh as he thought of all he had had to do, without making objections, in the Far West, in the heroic days of his youthful vigor.  He was rather fond of recalling how he had carried his pick on his shoulder and his knife in his belt, with two Yankee sayings in his head, and little besides for baggage:  “Muscle and pluck!—­Muscle and pluck!” and “Go ahead for ever!” That was the sort of thing to be done when a man or a woman had not a cent.

And now, what was Jacqueline to do next?  She reflected that in a very short time she had attempted many things.  It seemed to her that all she could do now was to follow the advice which, when first given her by Madame Strahlberg, had frightened her, though she had found it so attractive.  She would study with Madame Rochette; she would go to the Milan Conservatory, and as soon as she came of age she would go upon the stage, under a feigned name, of course, and in a foreign country.  She would prove to the world, she said