And, meanwhile, he noticed various little signs of the intention to make his stay attractive to him:  flowers in his bedroom, a more comfortable arm-chair in the corner, and even special little extra dishes on his private table in the dining-room.  Conversations, too, with “Mademoiselle Ilse” became more and more frequent and pleasant, and although they seldom travelled beyond the weather, or the details of the town, the girl, he noticed, was never in a hurry to bring them to an end, and often contrived to interject little odd sentences that he never properly understood, yet felt to be significant.

And it was these stray remarks, full of a meaning that evaded him, that pointed to some hidden purpose of her own and made him feel uneasy.  They all had to do, he felt sure, with reasons for his staying on in the town indefinitely.

“And has M’sieur not even yet come to a decision?” she said softly in his ear, sitting beside him in the sunny yard before dejeuner, the acquaintance having progressed with significant rapidity.  “Because, if it’s so difficult, we must all try together to help him!”

The question startled him, following upon his own thoughts.  It was spoken with a pretty laugh, and a stray bit of hair across one eye, as she turned and peered at him half roguishly.  Possibly he did not quite understand the French of it, for her near presence always confused his small knowledge of the language distressingly.  Yet the words, and her manner, and something else that lay behind it all in her mind, frightened him.  It gave such point to his feeling that the town was waiting for him to make his mind up on some important matter.

At the same time, her voice, and the fact that she was there so close beside him in her soft dark dress, thrilled him inexpressibly.

“It is true I find it difficult to leave,” he stammered, losing his way deliciously in the depths of her eyes, “and especially now that Mademoiselle Ilse has come.”

He was surprised at the success of his sentence, and quite delighted with the little gallantry of it.  But at the same time he could have bitten his tongue off for having said it.

“Then after all you like our little town, or you would not be pleased to stay on,” she said, ignoring the compliment.

“I am enchanted with it, and enchanted with you,” he cried, feeling that his tongue was somehow slipping beyond the control of his brain.  And he was on the verge of saying all manner of other things of the wildest description, when the girl sprang lightly up from her chair beside him, and made to go.

“It is soupe a l’onion to-day!” she cried, laughing back at him through the sunlight, “and I must go and see about it.  Otherwise, you know, M’sieur will not enjoy his dinner, and then, perhaps, he will leave us!”

He watched her cross the courtyard, moving with all the grace and lightness of the feline race, and her simple black dress clothed her, he thought, exactly like the fur of the same supple species.  She turned once to laugh at him from the porch with the glass door, and then stopped a moment to speak to her mother, who sat knitting as usual in her corner seat just inside the hall-way.