"Oh, certainly. . . ."

She kissed Geneviève and went indoors.

Meantime, night was beginning to fall. Sernine would not let Geneviève return alone. But they had hardly entered the path, when a figure, standing out against the shadow, hastened toward them.

"Grandmother!" cried Geneviève.

She threw herself into the arms of an old woman, who covered her with kisses:

"Oh, my darling, my darling, what has happened? How late you are! . . . And you are always so punctual!"

Geneviève introduced the prince:

"Prince Sernine . . . Mme. Ernemont, my grandmother. . . ."

Then she related the incident, and Mme. Ernemont repeated:

"Oh, my darling, how frightened you must have[Pg 88] been! . . . I shall never forget your kindness, monsieur, I assure you. . . . But how frightened you must have been, my poor darling!"

"Come, granny, calm yourself, as I am here. . . ."

"Yes, but the fright may have done you harm. . . . One never knows the consequences. . . . Oh, it's horrible! . . ."

They went along a hedge, through which a yard planted with trees, a few shrubs, a playground and a white house were just visible. Behind the house, sheltered by a clump of elder-trees arranged to form a covered walk, was a little gate.

The old lady asked Prince Sernine to come in and led the way to a little drawing-room or parlor. Geneviève asked leave to withdraw for a moment, to go and see her pupils, whose supper-time it was. The prince and Mme. Ernemont remained alone.

The old lady had a sad and a pale face, under her white hair, which ended in two long, loose curls. She was too stout, her walk was heavy and, notwi