Jason | Page 6

frowning.
"Oh, well, I shouldn't have said there was anything strange about them," Hartley said; "but they certainly were beautiful. There's no denying that. The man with her looked rather Irish, I thought."
They came to the Etoile, and cut across it toward the Avenue Hoche. Ste. Marie glanced back once more, but the motor-car and the delivery boy and the gendarmes were gone.
"What did you say?" he asked, idly.
"I said the man looked Irish," repeated his friend. All at once Ste. Marie gave a loud exclamation.
"Sacred thousand devils! Fool that I am! Dolt! Why didn't I think of it before?"
Hartley stared at him, and Ste. Marie stared down the Champs-Elys��es like one in a trance.
"I say," said the Englishman, "we really must be getting on, you know; we're late." And as they went along down the Avenue Hoche, he demanded: "Why are you a dolt and whatever else it was? What struck you so suddenly?"
"I remembered all at once," said Ste. Marie, "where I had seen that man before and with whom I last saw him. I'll tell you about it later. Probably it's of no importance, though."
"You're talking rather like a mild lunatic," said the other. "Here we are at the house!"
* * * * *

II
THE LADDER TO THE STARS
Miss Benham was talking wearily to a strange, fair youth with an impediment in his speech, and was wondering why the youth had been asked to this house, where in general one was sure of meeting only interesting people, when some one spoke her name, and she turned with a little sigh of relief. It was Baron de Vries, the Belgian First Secretary of Legation, an old friend of her grandfather's, a man made gentle and sweet by infinite sorrow. He bowed civilly to the fair youth and bent over the girl's hand.
"It is very good," he said, "to see you again in the world. We have need of you, nous autres. Madame your mother is well, I hope--and the bear?" He called old Mr. Stewart "the bear" in a sort of grave jest, and that fierce octogenarian rather liked it.
"Oh yes," the girl said, "we're all fairly well. My mother had one of her headaches to-night and so didn't come here, but she's as well as usual, and 'the bear'--yes, he's well enough physically, I should think, but he has not been quite the same since--during the past month. It has told upon him, you know. He grieves over it much more than he will admit."
"Yes," said Baron de Vries, gravely. "Yes, I know." He turned about toward the fair young man, but that youth had drifted away and joined himself to another group. Miss Benham looked after him and gave a little exclamation of relief.
"That person was rather terrible," she said. "I can't think why he is here. Marian so seldom has dull people."
"I believe," said the Belgian, "that he is some connection of De Saulnes'. That explains his presence." He lowered his voice. "You have heard no--news? They have found no trace?"
"No," said she. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm rather in despair. It's all so hideously mysterious. I am sure, you know, that something has happened to him. It's--very, very hard. Sometimes I think I can't bear it. But I go on. We all go on."
Baron de Vries nodded his head strongly.
"That, my dear child, is just what you must do," said he. "You must go on. That is what needs the real courage, and you have courage. I am not afraid for you. And sooner or later you will hear of him--from him. It is impossible nowadays to disappear for very long. You will hear from him." He smiled at her, his slow, grave smile that was not of mirth but of kindness and sympathy and cheer.
"And if I may say so," he said, "you are doing very wisely to come out once more among your friends. You can accomplish no good by brooding at home. It is better to live one's normal life--even when it is not easy to do it. I say so who know."
The girl touched Baron de Vries' arm for an instant with her hand--a little gesture that seemed to express thankfulness and trust and affection.
"If all my friends were like you!" she said to him. And after that she drew a quick breath as if to have done with these sad matters, and she turned her eyes once more toward the broad room where the other guests stood in little groups, all talking at once, very rapidly and in loud voices.
"What extraordinarily cosmopolitan affairs these dinner-parties in new Paris are!" she said. "They're like diplomatic parties, only we have a better time and the men don't wear their orders. How many nationalities should you say there are in this room now?"
"Without stopping