” They eyed her incredulously. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. I say again, grace à vous. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. The thought of beauty became an obsession. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. *** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought.
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