have expected it."

"Mademoiselle has been unnaturally subdued," he replied. "It is pleasant
she is coming to herself again. And you, my son, you should be hungry."

"As Mademoiselle says, one must eat," I answered.

"Good," he said. "The food is poor, but you will find the wine
excellent," and he filled the glasses. It was a strange meal.

"Now we shall talk," said Mademoiselle, when it was finished.

My father raised his wine glass to the light.

"It is always a pleasure to listen to Mademoiselle."

"I fear," replied Mademoiselle, "that this will be the exception."

"Impossible," said my father, sipping his wine.

"All this morning I have tried to have a word with you," said
Mademoiselle, "but your time has been well taken up. I hoped to speak to
you instead of your son, but he failed to take my advice and remain
quiet. As I said before, you are both stubborn. Not that it has made much
difference. You still have the paper."

She caused, and surveyed him calmly.

"Is it not painful to continue the discussion?" my father inquired. "I
assure you I have not changed my mind since last evening, nor shall I