The Trespasser, Volume 3

could not tell, further than that he had gone abroad. Lord F

weekly journals, and one hardy journalist even gave an interview-which had never occurred.

s, and every morning ear

Champs Elysee and out

e he sat for "Monmouth"

in his unc

hen took apartments, neither expensive nor fashionable, in a quiet street. He was surrounded by students and artists, a few great men and a host of small men: Collarossi's school here a

now with words in the patois of Normandy, now of Brittany; and all with the accent of French Canada, an accent undisturbe

plendid mount and Jacques's strange broncho. But they felt that they were at home. Gaston's French was not perfect, but it was enough for his needs. He got a taste of that freed

aily. From the first they puzzled her a little, and continued to do so; but because her mother said, "Wh

days w

ple cafe in Montparnasse, sipping vermouth, and watching the gay, light life about him. He sat up with delight to see an artist and his "Madame" returning from a journey in the country, seated upon sheaves of corn, quite unregarded by the world; doing as they listed with unabashed simplicity. He dined of

t seeing a layman enjoy the doings of Paris art life. Himself lived more luxuriously. In an avenue not far from the Luxembourg he had a

terest for him. His mind had the poetry of a free, simple-even wild-life, but he had no instinct for vice in the name of amusement. But the later hours spent in the garden under the

ities. Even Jacques, whose sense of humour had grown by long association with Gaston, enjoyed the piquant conversation. The next evening the same. About

ico, the Lotos Isles. He did so picturesquely, yet simply too, in imperfect but sufficient French. But as he told of one striking incident in the Rockies, he heard Jacques make a quick expression of dissent. He smiled. He had made some mistake in detail. Now

urned and sa

orgotten, as you see;

ques retired on some err

sa

o was as good as a thing from Victor Hugo. Hugo must have heard just such yarns, and

agging the Treasury Bench about the Chamber; as one conjures things in an absurd dream. He laughed outright, at a moment when Mademoiselle Cerise was telling of a remarkable effect she produced one night in "Fedora," unpremeditated, inspired; and Mademoiselle Cerise,

sat for a nymph, and said in an interested way that her flesh was as firm and fine as a Tongan's. He even disputed with his uncle on the tints of her skin, on seeing him paint it in, showing a fine eye for colour. But there was nothing more; he was impressed, observant, interested-that was all. His uncle began to wonder if the Englishman was, after all, deeper in the grain than the savage. He contented himself with the belief that the mos

e, fresh. It amused him, but he could still turn to the remembrance of Delia without blushing, for he h

As handsome as a leopard,

"You, monsieur? No, thank you. A week, a month, and then the brute in you would out. You make a woman fond, and then-a mat for your feet, and your wicked smile, and savage English words to drive her to the vitri

come to her feet she would probably have got at the truth somehow, and have worked in his favour-the joy vice takes to side with virtue, at times-when it is at no personal sacrifice. But Gaston was superior in a grand way. He was simple, courteous, interested only. This stung her, and she would bring him to his knees, if she could. This night she had

called. She

at me," she added. She fixed her eyes on him, and

ter a moment, "what

nfused. "Madam

es?" sh

nd in England, but I have never seen such as tho

"Come closer,

dropped her hands on his sho

horse, and I wi

of acting, and it was well done. Besides, Jacques Brillon was not a mere servant, and he, too, had done well.

retty c

needs t

strike to

nce of h

e dainti

port of

rose fad

bosom i

on rose. Mademoiselle Cerise sprang to her feet and ran forward. Jacques put out his hand to stop her, and Gaston caught her shoulder. "He's wicked with strangers," Gaston said. "C

dame, he wi

eautiful-is

beast is v

," she rejoined, yet

on beckoned to Mademoiselle Cerise. She came. He took her hand in his and put it at the horse'

ds easily," said Gaston

lids drooping suggestively.

ath us d

h or

is be

depe

derstand,

he wo

es

lent. "Mount the

upon the horse's bare back.

; then, presently: "

or a moment, then wh

ickly,"

caught her by the waist, and lifted her up. Sar

d suddenly

e said to the others. They did so. With great swiftness he sketched in the strange picture. It looked weird, almos

time the a

'King of Ys' will have its day with the world

arm around her. He felt the thrill of the situ

let her to the ground again