The Argosy — page 182: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Divided. 6 she took them away the anger had left her eyes, and there was a pitiful wistfulness in their dark depths that made Raoul ashamed of his own anger. After all, she was but an untutored child of Nature, as irresponsible for her wayward tempers as the birds of the air are for their spontaneity of melodiousness. “Come, Yvonne, we will not quarrel,” he said kindly; ‘ only remember that there are certain subjects on which [ have a right to be angry. Now it is time you went home; unless you are waiting to see the Lavanditres de la Nuit, or something of that sort. It is a fine night for weaving spells out of moonbeams, Good night, etite.” 3 “Vou are not angry with me, then?” she asked humbly. “I deserve it. But, yes, you are right; and I am little better than a savage. But I could not help it, Raoul. My words ran away with me. Ah; it is you who cannot understand.” ‘Understand you? Not always, ma foi,” he laughed carelessly ; “it is only Yvonne’s way. We all know that. But run along home. Some day, soon, I will take you for a sail in the Lon Espotr,” Again the irrepressible taunt flashed into her eyes. * And madame ?” He shrugged his shoulders, annoyed at the question. But before he could answer the light figure had darted away over the short, stunted grass that was gleaming silver, now, in the moonlight. Her home was situated on the edge of the cliff, not far from where they had been talking, on one of the bleakest spots ever selected for the site of a house. According to Mademoiselle Mathilde it was in momentary peril of subsiding into the sea beneath its windows ; it met the full force of the winter winds, no matter from what direc- tion they blew; in summer there was not a particle of foliage to give shelter from the scorching sun ; it was deplorably desolate, and hope- lessly distant from any pretence of respectable society. In fact, it was unsuitable, in every conceivable respect, for the residence of two gentlewomen who had every right to hold their heads high in the most fashionable circles of Quimper. Yvonne, on the other hand, loved the quaint little house, with its black oak rafters and old-world air of decay and loneliness ; loved to hear the wind shrieking round the gables and down the chimneys, and the waves roaring at the foot of the cliff; whilst, from the front windows, nothing could be seen but a waste of wild grey sea under a wild grey sky. Her own room was a corner one, with a tiny lattice high up in the wall overlooking the sea, and a larger window opposite com- manding an inland view. From the former she could see the old Chapelle de Notre Dame du Salut on the very extremity of the promontory. Rough steps, hewn in the cliff, led up to it from the beach, and that it was a favourite resort of the fishermen of the neighbouring villages was testified by the quantity of rustic carvings CORnNICLOO 5) (SO) nm