back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away.

Bernard, of course, in a moment was beside her, and, disregarding her injunction, he began to explain.

"I thought I disliked you--but I have come to the conclusion it was just the contrary. In reality I was in love with you. I had been so from the first time I saw you--when I made that sketch of you at Siena."

"That in itself needs an explanation. I was not at all nice then-- I was very rude, very perverse. I was horrid!"

"Ah, you admit it!" cried Bernard, with a sort of quick elation.

She had been pale, but she suddenly blushed.

"Your own conduct was singular, as I remember it. It was not exactly agreeable."

"Perhaps not; but at least it was meant to be. I did n't know how to please you then, and I am far from supposing that I have learned now. But I entreat you to give me a chance."

She was silent a while; her eyes wandered over the great prospect of Paris.