"I'm awfully glad you like the idea—it's really luck my meeting you. I've got a place in Siena, you know, and a flat in Rome, so I daresay I shall look in sometimes—break my journey to see that you're behaving yourself."
They walked along the narrow strip of grass that fringed the row of chairs. But when they came out on to the path Fantine glanced to the right and paused, looking up at the huge statue, its shield aloft against the sky.
"Well—are you making a fresh conquest?"
"Yes—and no!" she laughed softly. "I say good-bye to my friend, Achille—it's just a politeness of mine, Pierrot."
For a moment she stood there, eyes raised.
McTaggart, pitiful, guessed her thought. He saw that the post, invented for her, was not for long as he watched her face.
And something of the old glamour, the memory of the days that were, brought a sharp pain to his heart. He tried in vain to conceal his fear.
But Fantine knew. She nodded her head.
"In case," she murmured, "I don't return."
Then, gaily, to the statue.