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Rh indignation to the pale, red-bearded man opposite, palette in hand, silently piercing him with those steel-grey eyes under the corrugated brows. He could look for no sympathy or help there.

Yet something he was resolved to do, the day before his last sitting, and only two before his departure for Paris. He would see her, coûte que coûte. He had not yet made up his mind exactly what he would say to her; bat his proposals should be generous—even extravagant, if stimulated by difficulty. Nay, if the worse came to the worst, he thought he would propose marriage; for was he not genuinely "in love"? And, being so unused to opposition, even this last desperate resource might be preferable to utter failure. How should he obtain an interview? He argued thus. It was impossible that she should remain the whole day long in that sick-room, without exercise, sunshine, fresh air. He slipped a napoleon into the head-waiter's hand, and in reply to his inquiries learnt that for the last three or four days the English young lady on the third floor had walked out alone rather late in the afternoon, and had always taken the same direction,—up the hill towards the Italian frontier. He did not remain to breakfast that morning, greatly to Alaric's relief, but returned to Mentone some hours later, and after interviewing his friend the waiter, whom he had appointed to meet him, and learning that the English young lady had already started for her usual walk up the hill, he hastened to follow her.