Lucian came down to breakfast next morning equipped for his journey to Simonstower. He was in good spirits: the day was bright and frosty, and he was already dreaming of the village and the snow-capped hills beyond it. In dressing he had thought over his plans, and had decided that he was now quite reconciled to the drastic measures which Sprats had proposed. He would clear off all his indebtedness to Darlington, pay whatever bills might be owing, and make a fresh start, this time on the lines of strict economy, forethought, and prudence. He had very little conception of the real meaning of these important qualities, but he had always admired them in the abstract, and he now intended to form an intimate acquaintance with them.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as he faced Haidee at the breakfast-table and spread out the Morning Post, ‘that when I have readjusted everything we shall be much better off than I thought. Those diamonds make a big difference, Haidee. In fact we shall have, or we ought to have, quite a decent little capital, and we’ll invest it in something absolutely safe and sound. I’ll ask Darlington’s advice about that, and we’ll never touch it. The interest and the royalties will yield an income which will be quite sufficient for our needs—you can live very cheaply in Italy.’

‘Then you are still bent on going to Italy—to Florence?’ she asked calmly.

‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘It’s the best thing we can do. I’m looking forward to it. After all, why should we be encumbered as we are at present with an expensive house, a troop of servants, and all the rest of it? We don’t really want them. Has it never occurred to you that all these things are something like the shell which the snail has to carry on his back and can’t get away from? Why should a man carry a big shell on his back? It’s all very well talking about the advantages and comforts of having a house of one’s own, but it’s neither an advantage nor a comfort to be tied to a house nor to anything that clogs one’s action.’

Haidee made no reply to those philosophic observations.

‘How long do you propose to stay in Italy?’ she asked. ‘Simply for the winter? I suppose we should return here for the season next year?’

‘I don’t think so,’ answered Lucian. ‘We might go into Switzerland during the very hot months—we couldn’t stand Florence in July and August. But I don’t intend returning to London for some time. I don’t think I shall ever settle here again. After all, I am Italian.’

Then, finding that it was time he set out for King’s Cross, he kissed his wife’s cheek, bade her amuse and take care of herself during his absence, and went away, still in good spirits. For some time after he had gone Haidee remained where he had left her. She ate and drank mechanically, and she looked straight before her in the blank, purposeless fashion which often denotes intense concentration of thought. When she rose from the table she walked about the room with aimless, uncertain movements, touching this and that object without any reason for doing so. She picked up the Morning Post, glanced at it, and saw nothing; she fingered two or three letters which Lucian had left lying about on the breakfast-table, and laid them down again. They reminded her, quite suddenly, of a letter from Eustace Darlington which she had in her pocket, a trivial note, newly arrived, which informed her that he had made some purchase or other for her in Paris, whither he had gone for a week on business, and that she would shortly receive a parcel containing it. There was nothing of special interest or moment in the letter; she referred to it merely to ascertain Darlington’s address.

After a time Haidee went into the study and sought out a railway guide. She had already made up her mind to join Eustace Darlington, and she now decided to travel by a train which would enable her to reach Paris at nine o’clock that evening. She began to make her preparations at once, and instructed her maid to pack two large portmanteaus. Her jewels she packed herself, taking them out of a safe in which they were usually deposited, and after she had bestowed them in a small handbag she kept the latter within sight until her departure. Everything was carried out with coolness and thoughtfulness. The maid was told that her mistress was going to Paris for a few days and that she was to accompany her; the butler received his orders as to what was to be done until Mrs. Damerel’s return the next day or the day following. There was nothing to surprise the servants, and nothing to make them talk, in Haidee’s proceedings. She lunched at an earlier hour than usual, drove to the station with her maid, dropped a letter, addressed to Lucian at Simonstower vicarage, into the pillar-box on the platform, and departed for Paris with an admirable unconcern. There was a choppy sea in the Channel, and the maid was ill, but Haidee acquired a hearty appetite, and satisfied it in the dining-car of the French train. She was one of those happily constituted people who can eat at the greatest moments of life.

She drove from the Gare du Nord to the HÔtel Bristol, and engaged rooms immediately on her arrival. A little later she inquired for Darlington, and then discovered that he had that day journeyed to Dijon, and was not expected to return until two days later. Haidee, in nowise disconcerted by this news, settled down to await his reappearance.