“It may be so,” she declared. “I see quite clearly the first letters of the word – Thom... written in a large hand... then the rest is indistinct... but I have the impression that the end of the word is longer than the last syllable of Thomas. Perhaps you are right!”

Fandor was no longer listening to her. He had left the wooden bench, and without paying any attention to Elizabeth, he began walking up and down the shady path, talking to himself in a low tone, as was his habit when he wished to reduce his thoughts to order.

“Thomas – that is Thomery; Jacques Dollon, the Baroness de Vibray, Barbey-Nanteuil, lawyer Gérin – but they are all the victims of the mysterious band that plots and plans in the shade!... It is incomprehensible – but we shall find a way to get to the bottom of it all.” Fandor returned to Elizabeth.

“We shall get to the bottom of these mysteries,” he cried, with so triumphant an air, his face shining with joy, that Elizabeth, in spite of her torturing anxieties, could not help smiling.

They were alone in these green and flowery spaces.

A great peace was all about them. The birds were singing, the breeze lightly stirred the trees and bushes with caressing breaths... Fandor gazed tenderly at Elizabeth, very tenderly... The young girl smiled tremulously, as she met this glance of lover-like tenderness.

“We shall get to the bottom of it,” repeated Fandor.

“You will see, I promise you...”

Their glances mingled in a mute communion of thought and feeling... Spontaneously, their hands met and clasped.... They were standing close together, and experienced the feeling of living through an unforgettable moment: they felt most vividly alive together. How young they were! How intoxicating a moment!... The world of outside things ceased to exist for them... They were wrapped in a glowing world of their own!... Fandor’s hand slid to Elizabeth’s shoulder; he leaned towards the unresisting girl, and with closed eyes, their lips met in a long kiss – a kiss all ecstasy...

It was a moment’s mutual madness!... The instant past, both knew it. Torn from this momentary dream of bliss, they gazed at each other, embarrassed, greatly moved: for that very reason they wished to part. Ah, this was not the moment to speak of love, to dream of happiness and mutual joy! Dark, dreadful mysteries enclosed them: it was a sinister net they struggled in, and as yet they could see no clear way out!... They had no right to be themselves until the mysteries were cleared away... They could not belong to each other now!

Fandor, when taking leave of Elizabeth, expressed a wish that she should not accompany him to the convent; and she, still shaken with emotion, had not insisted on doing so.

As he was on the point of stepping into the street, a sister came up to him.

“You are Monsieur Jérôme Fandor?”

“Yes, sister.”