The boat approached the little quay of Palais slowly with Count Styvens standing well forward, his tall figure silhouetted against the grey of the sea. He caught sight of Esperance immediately, as she stood up in the brake, waving her handkerchief. Great happiness was in his heart, and in his haste to be ashore, he went to assist them to lay down the gangplank, and was at the carriage in a second, kissing most tenderly the hand Esperance held out to him. A great basket was placed on the seat. The girls blushed with pleasure, for a sweet odour was wafted to them from it.

All the way home Esperance heard from Albert in detail all that had happened to him since she had last seen him. She talked incessantly, as if to drown her thoughts under a sea of nonsense. At the farm the young man could see the pleasure they all showed at his return. Of course he was somewhat astonished to learn that Maurice was absent with the Duchess, for he had not yet heard of the events that had happened during his absence.

They all gathered together in the dining-room. The Count took out of his pocket a little case, and asking Esperance to give him her hand, slipped on to her middle finger a magnificent engagement ring. Somehow her hand went cold as death as Albert held it, and her face contracted strangely.

"Do you regret your word already, Esperance?" he asked in a nervous, low voice.

"No, no, Albert," she said quickly, nervously twisting the ring on her finger, "but this is a very serious moment, and you know that I incline to taking things seriously here," and she put her hand across her heart. Then she smiled, pressed his hand, and showed the ring to Genevieve. They all examined and admired the beautiful jewel. When the philosopher turned to praise it Albert had disappeared.

The basket was opened revealing a bouquet of magnificent white orchids, marvellously fresh, held in a white scarf with embroidered ends.

When they assembled for dinner an hour later Esperance was not present, and Albert began to look uneasy. But they had not long to wait, and when she did appear she was dressed all in white, an embroidered scarf fastened about her waist, and several orchids arranged like a coronet in her hair. At that moment she seemed almost supernaturally beautiful.

"What a pity that Maurice is not here! You are so lovely this evening," said Genevieve.

"Oh," said Esperance smiling, "that is not the only reason you regret his absence?"

Next day they were surprised to get no word from the painter to tell them which boat he would take. It was warm and they had coffee served in the convolvulus bower. The breeze came through an opening from the sea.

"Look! isn't that a pretty boat?" cried out Genevieve.

A white yacht was sailing slowly towards Penhouet. The philosopher got his glasses.

"It is the Princess's flag," he exclaimed.

"Yes, yes," agreed Albert, "it is the Belgian flag. Listen, there is the salute."

Jean ran to the farm, calling back, "I will answer it. All right, M.
Darbois?"

The flag sank and rose three times, then the yacht headed straight for the little bay. Genevieve climbed on a high rock and clapped her hands. "It is he, oh! it is he."

She turned radiantly back to the party in the grove. Her "It is he" made Albert smile. It was so charming, so sincere that they all shared the quality of her joy.

It was indeed Maurice returning on the Princess's yacht. The tide was so high that the boat could get quite close.

Everyone went down to the beach where the waves were washing the little rocks. Albert jumped on the largest rock which seemed to recede to sea with him. Genevieve would have followed him but he cried out, "Look out, it is very deep here."

She stayed where she was, but so woebegone did her face become that Albert leapt ashore again, and before she knew what he was doing, picked her up, and was back on the slippery rock with her.

"Oh! the bold lad!" said the Professor.

The little sloop had been launched and Maurice could easily land on the big rock. He kissed Genevieve, and told the Count of his delight in seeing him again. Then he looked around him. The water surrounded them on all sides. He looked at Genevieve questioningly, but by way of response Albert simply picked her up again and went ashore with her. Maurice was quick and agile, he was even strong in a nervous way, but Albert's strength and agility filled him with wonder.

Esperance congratulated the Count on his prowess and his kind thought in enabling Genevieve to see Maurice a little sooner.

"It is because I know what that joy is myself," he answered simply.

Esperance's eyes grew moist as she turned to Albert.

"You are so good, you always do the right thing. I am prouder every day to be loved by you."

During dinner Maurice gave them an account of all that had happened to him, with many new incidents.

"I am not telling you anything new," he added to Albert when they were alone. "You know as well as I do that the Duke is in love with Esperance. We all know it here."

Albert agreed with a rather sad smile that he did know it.

"Now that my cousin is your fiancÉe, he is too much of a gentleman to seek her, but he certainly wants to be near her, to talk to her, in short to flirt with her."

"You believe that he would dare?"

"My dear cousin," said Maurice, half jestingly, half serious. "I believe him capable of anything, but he knows that you are here … and perhaps is afraid to take liberties."

"To put an end to his manoeuvrings we must somehow make him look ridiculous, and expose his folly. The fÊte, I think, will give us our chance."

Albert said, "I will follow your advice, Maurice."

"Very good. I will give you particulars of my plans. By the way, I have brought all your invitations. I will go and deliver them." So they went to seek the others, and Maurice gave each one a card with a personal invitation for the twentieth of September. Genevieve blushed.

"I am invited as well," she said.

"Of course; and I believe the amiable Duchess intends to ask you to recite the poem she has written. It is very touching. I will find it for you to-morrow. Ah! yes, you have made a great impression on that delightful lady. She talked about you to me all the time. You would have supposed she was doing it to please me."

Genevieve became purple. It was the first time Maurice had expressed himself so frankly. When they left the table she led Esperance aside and kissed her until she almost stifled her.

"Oh! how happy I am, and how I love him!"

Maurice and Jean passed by talking so busily that they did not see the girls.

"You are sure?"

"Absolutely. Since I have been away for four whole days I am convinced more than ever that I adore that girl and shall not be happy without her."

"You have written to your father?"

"Not yet. I must first of all talk to Genevieve."

"You are not afraid of what she will say? Of her answer?"

Maurice smiled.

"I want first to tell her of my future plans, and to have a confidential chat with her about everything."

"You will be my best man, old fellow," he went on, clapping Jean on the shoulder. "You have chosen the role of actor, with the temperament of a spectator; strange lover!"

"Like any other man I follow my Destiny. You were born for happiness, Maurice, one has only to look at you to be convinced of it. You breathe forth life, you love, you conquer. Youth radiates from you. I have asked myself a hundred times why I have chosen this career, and I am persuaded that I must live, if at all, the life of others."

"Are you very upset—unhappy?" asked Maurice.

"No, oh no; I don't suffer much, but of course I am a little disturbed. I am like a reflection. Esperance's happiness elates, her sorrow depresses me. I love her purely as an idealist. I would like Count Albert to look like the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, and still keep the noble soul that we know he possesses. If your cousin should die, I truly believe that I would die. My life would be without aim, without soul; bereft of light, the reflection would vanish."

They walked slowly down to the beach to join Albert and the girls. The night had broken soft and limpid, full of stars, full of dreams. They sat down on the sand, silently admiring the prospect. The waves broke regularly as if scanning the poem of silence. A fresh scent rose from the rocks which were clothed with sea moss. Far away a dog was barking. The young people were silent, united in a mood of wonder before the depths and lights of the night.