to thank only your freshness and youth. It was simple of you to imagine that he would remain untempted by a woman as seductive as Marthe Ludérac. For she knows what she is doing! She knows that to the libertine there is no seduction so great as that of purity!'
Jill sat silent. A crimson flush had dyed her face as the old woman told her tale; but, in the silence that followed, it sank slowly away, leaving her pallid under her sunburn. She felt a sickness in her veins. The very air seemed tainted, though even now her faith repelled the poison that trailed over the images of those she loved. She was hardly thinking of Madame de Lamouderie as she rose slowly to her feet. 'If it's true—they must be free,' she murmured.
'What is it you say?' asked the old woman.
'If they love each other, so much, they must be free. I must set them free if they belong to each other,' said Jill, looking out at the black sky.
'Grand Dieu!' cried Madame de Lamouderie, 'you will break your heart—you will wreck your life—for that little peasant! No! No! Be braver, my poor child! Just Heaven!—if I were in your place I would show you how a woman fights for her man and deals with her rivals! Wait. Be calm. Say nothing. I have made mistakes for you,—thinking that I could part them. I did not guess how much you already knew—how much you accepted. So, then. Accept it all. Let him have his fill of her. Smile and say no word and let your smile say to him: "So be it, mon cher. Take your little peasant. I do not feel her a rival!" There is no-
