Lorraine did not know, but as often as she gave the riddle up she recommenced it, idly sometimes, sometimes piqued that the solution seemed no nearer. Once, the evening she had met him after their first encounter in the forest carrefour--that evening on the terrace when she stood looking out into the dazzling Lorraine moonlight--she felt that the solution of the riddle had been very near. But now, two weeks later, it seemed further off than ever. And yet this problem, that occupied her so, must surely be worth the solving. What was it, then, in Jack Marche that made him what he was?--gentle, sweet-tempered, a delightful companion--yes, a companion that she would not now know how to do without.
And yet, at times, there came into his eyes and into his voice something that troubled her--she could not tell why--something that mystified and checked her, and set her thinking again on the old, old problem that had seemed so near solution that evening on the moonlit terrace.
That was why she started to say "Yes" to his question, and did not, but stood with lips half parted and blue eyes troubled.
He looked at her in silence for a moment, then, with a half-impatient gesture, turned to the river.
"Shall we sit down on the moss?" she asked, vaguely conscious that his sympathies had, for a moment, lost touch with hers.
He followed her down the trodden foot-path to the bank of the stream, and, when she had seated herself at the foot of a linden-tree, he threw himself at her feet.
They were silent. He picked up a faded bunch of blue corn-flowers which they had left there, forgotten, the day before. One by one he broke the blossoms from the stalks and tossed them into the water.
She, watching them floating away under the bridge, thought of the blue bits of paper--the telegram--that she had torn up and tossed upon the water two weeks before. He was thinking of the same thing, for, when she said, abruptly: "I should not have done that!" he knew what she meant, and replied: "Such things are always your right--if you care to use it."
She laughed. "Then you believe still in the feudal system? I do not; I am a good republican."
"It is easy," he said, also laughing, "for a young lady with generations of counts and vicomtes behind her to be a republican. It is easier still for a man with generations of republicans behind him to turn royalist. It is the way of the world, mademoiselle."
"Then you shall say: 'Long live the king!'" she said; "say it this instant!"