“Goodnight,” she whispered, “I must return alone tonight.”

He watched her until she reached the northern terrace, and then sat down on the marble seat until a hand on his shoulder and a glimmer of bayonets warned him away.

She passed on through the grove, and turning into the Rue de Medici, traversed it to the Boulevard. At the corner she bought a bunch of violets and walked on along the Boulevard to the Rue des Écoles. A cab was drawn up before Boulant’s, and a pretty girl aided by Elliott jumped out.

“Valentine!” cried the girl, “come with us!”

“I can’t,” she said, stopping a moment⁠—“I have a rendezvous at Mignon’s.”