and bridling to her own image.

Sonia tottered to the window and stared down at the road along which
must come the tidings of weal or irremediable woe. She kept passing
her hand over her eyes as if to clear their vision.

Suddenly she started, and bent forward, rigid, all her being
concentrated in the effort to see.

Then she cried: "Mademoiselle Germaine! Look! Look!"

"What is it?" said Germaine, coming to her side.

"A horseman! Look! There!" said Sonia, waving a hand towards the
road.

"Yes; and isn't he galloping!" said Germaine.

"It's he! It's the Duke!" cried Sonia.

"Do you think so?" said Germaine doubtfully.

"I'm sure of it--sure!"

"Well, he gets here just in time for tea," said Germaine in a tone
of extreme satisfaction. "He knows that I hate to be kept waiting.
He said to me, 'I shall be back by five at the latest.' And here he
is."

"It's impossible," said Sonia. "He has to go all the way round the