"I don't know why, but I laughed. At the moment it seemed to be a very droll saying. And at the sound of my laughter he grinned in sympathy. He was a wonderful man. When he was established in the train, he held out his hand to me."
"'Adieu,' he said. 'You have been kind in your way. You didn't do it for me, you know—so adieu!"
"I took his hand. It was a small thing to grant him, and I bad no other answer. As the train moved away, I saw his face at the window of the carriage, full of a kind of sly humor—gross, amiable, and tragic! He waved me a good-bye."
The Colonel paused, staring at his trimly booted toe. Madame la
Comtesse looked at him thoughtfully.
"You saw him again? she asked.
"Yes," he answered. "But possibly the tale becomes too painful."
The Comtesse passed a hand over her eyes. "I must hear the rest," she said. "You saw her, too, again?"
"Yes," said the Colonel.
"She was very hard," said the Comtesse thoughtfully. "Very hard always. As a girl I remember——"
The Colonel was looking at her intently, as though some thought had suddenly brought him enlightenment. Both he and the Comtesse seemed quite to have forgotten Elsie, listening on her stool in bewilderment and compassion. She saw them now exchange guarded glances, as though measuring each other's penetration.