The Launching of Roger Brook

of going to Paris for the winter, she should go to her aunt's chateau at St. Brieuc, and quietly recuperate there in the good sea air.

Twelve days after his arrival at Becherel Roger received a reply to his letter to the Marquis. In effect it said little more than: 'I approve the measures you have taken regarding my daughter, and you have my full authority to carry out any other measures you may think requisite to her well-being. However, now that she is in good hands there seems no reason why you should linger unduly at Becherel, so the sooner you return to Paris with the Domaine de St. Hilaire docu­ments, the better.'

There was no message for Athenais, no indication that the stony heart of the Marquis had been touched by his young daughter's affliction;

he still appeared to be entirely wrapped up in his own concerns. In disgust Roger stuffed the missive into his pocket and forgot it.

A week later he received another letter from M. de Rochambeau, this time by personal courier. It said:

To my great annoyance I have returned to Paris to find you still absent. Why is this? Paintendre is a fool who understands nothing of my affairs. Get to horse at once, and rejoin me here at the earliest possible moment.

Again there was no inquiry as to how Athenais was progressing, let alone as to the health of his servants. Yet Roger knew that if he wished to keep his job he must obey the summons without delay. He sat down and wrote a note to Athenais, which ran:

Mademoiselle, I have received your father's command to return immediately to Paris. Having followed the progress of your illness through Dr. Hollier I am greatly rejoiced to know that you are near recovered. I should count it a great favour if you would permit me to take leave of you before my departure.

Five minutes later he received a verbal reply by the footman who had taken up his note. The man bowed to him and said: 'Monsieur, Mademoiselle desires you to wait upon her after your evening meal.'

The Marquis's courier had not arrived until after mid-day and, for the sake of reaching Pans a few hours earlier, Roger had no intention of forgoing the interview that Athenais had granted him. However, he arranged with Chenou to have a coach ready for him at dawn the following morning, and had the great iron chest containing the documents carried down to the front hall in readiness for loading. Early in the evening he dressed himself in his best suit, which he had brought with him, arranged his hair with care and put a beauty patch on his left cheek. When he looked at himself in the mirror he was satisfied that not even the Abbe de Perigord could have surpassed him in his new role of a fashionable exquisite.

After he had supped he went upstairs with a beating heart. He felt reasonably confident that Athenais would not have consented to see him unless she intended to thank him for the part he had played in bringing order out of chaos at the chateau; but, whether her thanks would be purely formal, or couched in the warmer note of renewed friendship, yet remained to be seen.

One of the Sisters of Mercy admitted him to the room. As he came round the corner of the screen he saw that Athenais was sitting up in bed with her hair properly dressed, and that the last traces of her sores had completely disappeared under a dusting of rouge and powder.

For a moment she did not look at him, but addressed the nun: 'Sister Angelique, I have business to discuss with my father's secretary. While we are talking you would, no doubt, like to give your mind to your devotions. Pray avail yourself of my oratory.'

Without a word the nun obediently crossed the room, and dis­appeared behind a curtain that concealed an alcove fitted up as a small private chapel. While she knelt there she was still, theoretically, in the room and chaperoning Athenais; but, for all practical purposes, Roger was now alone with his divinity.

He thought that she had never looked more beautiful as she turned her big blue eyes on him, and said:

'Monsieur; on learning this afternoon that orders had come for you to return to Paris, I took the opportunity to write to my father. Please convey my missive to him immediately on your arrival.'

With a bow Roger took the letter that she held out to him. He had counted more than he knew on being restored to her favour before he left Becherel; but now it seemed that she had delayed his departure only in order to write this letter, and he was bitterly disappointed.

'It occurred to me,' she went on, 'that you have long outstayed the purpose of your original mission to Becherel, and I thought that my father should be informed of the reason for that. Dr. Hollier has told me of all that you have done to restore order and health among the servants here, and we all owe you our gratitude.'

He bowed again. 'Mademoiselle, I could do no less; and as Monseigneur is angry with me for having delayed so long your letter will prove a boon in modifying his displeasure.'

'I trust so.' She fiddled with the ribbons of her bed-jacket, and added a little uncertainly: 'You wished to say something to me before your departure?'

'Only, Mademoiselle, how happy I am that you are now recovered from your illness and need only rest to restore your full health again.'

'Have you no more to say than that?'

'Now that I have seen you, I would add my thanks to God for having preserved your beauty.'

Again her words came a little uncertainly: 'Under His mercy, Monsieur, I owe that to you. And, since you show no mind to broach a matter that concerns us both, 'tis for me to do so.'

His pulses began to race as she lowered her eyes and went on, almost in a whisper. 'That night when you arrived here I did a terrible thing; and 'tis generous of you, now that I am well, to spare me your reproaches. By making you kiss me at the height of my fever 'tis a miracle that I did not give you the sickness.'

' 'Twas my fault,' he said gently, almost overcome by her sudden display of feeling. 'I should have waited a more fitting occasion to ask your forgiveness for what had passed before. You were half delirious and knew not what you did. I pray you think no more of it.'

'But I must. I knew then that you really loved me, and that I ill deserved it from having been so harsh and wicked towards you.'

'Please!' he begged, hardly daring to look at her. But she raised her eyes and her words came more firmly:

'There is only one way in which I can make amends. To wipe away the memory of those other kisses you may, an it please you, kiss me again now.'

He was trembling now. Stepping forward he took one of her hands in his and placed his other arm about her shoulders. Stooping above her he took a long breath and, as she raised her face to his, he whispered: 'Nay, I'll not do it to pleasure myself alone, but only if you wish it also.'

'Roje I do!' she cried suddenly: and flinging her soft arms round his neck she drew his mouth down to hers.

For a space they clung together, then she began to cry softly.

'My loveliness,' he murmured, drawing away a little. 'Why do'st thou weep?'

'Because—because I am so happy,' she sobbed, 'yet, at the same time, so sad.'

'What troubles thee, my sweet Princess?'

Choking back her tears she smiled fondly up at him. ' 'Tis that I would so terribly that I could be thy Princess. Yet, far as thou hast already travelled on the road to fortune, dear miller's youngest son, there can be no hope of that.'

'Thou, thou lovest me then?' he breathed.

She nodded. 'With all my heart. 'Twas naught but stupid pride that stayed me from confessing it before. For years I have built romance about thee, and thought of thee always as my perfect knight.'

Again they kissed, not once but a score of times; and for the next half hour murmured only sweet endearments to one another.

At length Athenais placed her hands upon his shoulders and put him gently from her. ' Tis time for thee to leave me,' she said, with a sigh, 'or Sister Angelique's curiosity will overcome her piety.'

'So soon,' he protested. 'Nay, she will continue with her devotions for a while yet, and there are still a thousand things that I would say to thee.'

'And I to thee. But lest she comes upon us suddenly we must now be circumspect, and thou hadst best sit there in that chair, as though we were in truth discussing business.'

As she began to tidy herself and he took the chair, he said: 'Tell me, beloved, what are your plans; and when can I hope to see you again?'