Itwaslatesummer-time，andtheperfumeofflowersstoleintothedarkenedroomthroughthehalf-openedwindow。Thesunlightforceditswaythroughachinkintheblind，andstretchedacrossthefloorinstrangezigzagfashion。Fromwithoutcamethepleasantmurmurofbeesandmanylazierinsectsfloatingoverthegorgeousflowerbeds，restingforawhileontheclematiswhichhadmadethepiazzaablazeofpurplesplendour。Andinside，inahigh-backedchair，theresataman，hisarmsfolded，hiseyesfixedsteadilyuponvacancy。Ashesatthen，sohadhesatforawholedayandawholenight。Thefaintsweetchorusofgladlivingthings，whichalonebrokethedeepsilenceofthehouse，seemedneithertodisturbnorinteresthim。Hesattherelikeamanturnedtostone，hisforeheadrivenbyonedeepline，hisstraightfirmmouthsetcloseandhard。Hisservant，theonlylivingbeingwhohadapproachedhim，hadsetfoodbyhisside，whichnowandthenhehadmechanicallytaken。Changelessasasphinx，hehadsatthereindarknessandinlight，whilstsunlighthadchangedtomoonlight，andthesongsofthebirdshadgivenplacetothelowmurmuringoffrogsfromalakebelowthelawns。
Atlastitseemedthathisunnaturalfithadpassedaway。Hestretchedouthishandandstruckasilvergongwhichhadbeenleftwithinhisreach。Almostimmediatelyaman，pale-faced，withfulldarkeyesandolivecomplexion，dressedinthesombregarbofanindoorservant，stoodathiselbow。
“Duson。“
“YourGrace！“
“Bringwine-Burgundy。“
Itwasbeforehim，servedwithalmostincredibledespatch-asmallcobwebbedbottleandaglassofquaintshape，onwhichwerebeautifullyemblazonedacoronetandfleur-de-lis。Hedrankslowlyanddeliberately。Whenhesettheglassdownitwasempty。
“Duson！“
“YourGrace！“
“Youwillpackmythingsandyourown。WeshallleaveforNewYorkthisevening。TelegraphtotheHollandHouseforrooms。“
“Forhowmanydays，yourGrace？“
“Weshallnotreturnhere。Payoffalltheservantssavetwoofthemosttrustworthy，whowillremainascaretakers。“
Theman’sfacewasasimmovableashismaster’s。
“AndMadame？“
“Madamewillnotbereturning。Shewillhavenofurtheruseforhermaid。See，however，thatherclothesandallherpersonalbelongingsremainabsolutelyundisturbed。“
“HasyourGraceanyfurtherorders？“
“Takepencilandpaper。Sendthiscablegram。Areyouready？“
Theman’sheadmovedinrespectfulassent。
“ToFelix，“No27，RuedeSt。Pierre，“AvenuedeL’Opera，Paris。
“MeetmeatSherry’sRestaurant，NewYork，onemonthto-day，elevenp。m-V。S。“
“Itshallbesentimmediately，yourGrace。ThetrainforNewYorkleavesatseven-ten。Acarriagewillbehereinonehourandfiveminutes。“
Themanmovedtowardsthedoor。Hismasterlookedup。
“Duson！“
“YourGrace！“
“TheDucdeSouspennierremainshere-oratthebottomofthelake-whatmatters！ItisMr。SabinwhotravelstoNewYork，andforwhomyouengageroomsattheHollandHouse。Mr。SabinisacosmopolitanofEnglishproclivities。“
“Verygood，sir！“
“Lockthisdoor。Bringmycoatandhatfiveminutesbeforethecarriagestarts。Lettheservantsbewellpaid。Letnoneofthemattempttoseeme。“
Themanbowedanddisappeared。Lefttohimself，Mr。Sabinrosefromhischair，andpushingopenthewindows，stoodupontheverandah。
Heleanedheavilyuponhisstickwithbothhands，holdingitbeforehim。Slowlyhiseyestraveledoverthelandscape。
Itwasaverybeautifulhomewhichhewasleaving。Beforehimstretchedthegardens-Italianindesign，brilliantwithflowers，withhereandthereadarkcedar-treedroopinglowuponthelawn。
Ayewhedgeborderedtherose-garden，afountainwasplayinginthemiddleofalake。Awoodenfenceencircledthegrounds，andbeyondwasasmoothrollingpark，withlittlebeltsofpineplantationsandafewlargertreeshereandthere。Inthefardistancetheredflagwaswavingononeoftheputtinggreens。
ArchieGreenwasstrollingupthehillside，-hispipeinhismouth，andhisdriverunderhisarm。Mr。Sabinwatched，andthelinesinhisfacegrewdeeperanddeeper。
“Iamanoldman，“hesaidsoftly，“butIwilllivetoseethemsufferwhohavedonethisevilthing。“
Heturnedslowlybackintotheroom，andlimpingrathermorethanwasusualwithhim，hepushedasideaportiereandpassedintoacharminglyfurnishedcountrydrawing-room。Onlytheflowershungdeadintheirvases；everythingelsewasfreshandsweetanddainty。
SlowlyhethreadedhiswayamongsttheelegantLouisQuinzefurniture，examiningasthoughforthefirsttimethebeautifuloldtapestry，theSevreschina，theChippendaletable，whichwaspriceless，theexquisiteportraitspaintedbyGreuze，andthemysteriousgreentwilightsandgreydawnsofCorot。Everywheretreasuresofart，yeteverywheretherestraininghandoftheartist。
Thefaintsmellofdeadroseleaveshungabouttheroom。Alreadyoneseemedconsciousofacertainemptinessasthoughthegeniusoftheplacehadgone。Mr。Sabinleanedheavilyuponhisstick，andhisheaddroopedlowerandlower。Asoft，respectfulvoicecametohimfromtheotherroom。
“Infiveminutes，sir，thecarriagewillbeatthedoor。Ihaveyourcoatandhathere。“
Mr。Sabinlookedup。
“Iamquiteready，Duson！“hesaid。
Theservantsinthehallstoodrespectfullyasidetolethimpass。
Onthewaytothedepothesawnothingofthosewhosalutedhim。
Inthecarhesatwithfoldedarmsinthemostretiredseat，lookingsteadfastlyoutofthewindowatthedyingday。Thereweremountainsawaywestwards，touchedwithgoldenlight；sometimesforlongminutestogetherthetrainwasrushingthroughforestswhosedarknesswaslikethatofatunnel。Mr。Sabinseemedindifferenttothesechanges。Thecomingofnightdidnotdisturbhim。Hisbrainwasatwork，andthethingswhichhesawwerehiddenfromothermen。
Duson，withamurmurofapology，brokeinuponhismeditations。
“Youwillpardonme，sir，buttheseconddinnerisnowbeingserved。
Therestaurantcarwillbedetachedatthenextstop。“
“Whatofit？“Mr。Sabinaskedcalmly。
“Ihavetakenthelibertyoforderingdinnerforyou，sir。Itisthirtyhourssinceyouateanythingsavebiscuits。“
Mr。Sabinrosetohisfeet。
“Youarequiteright，Duson，“hesaid。“Iwilldine。“
Inhalf-an-hourhewasbackagain。Dusonplacedbeforehimsilentlyaboxofcigarettesandmatches。Mr。Sabinsmoked。
Soonthelightsofthegreatcityflaredinthesky，thetrainstoppedmorefrequently，theexpressmenandnewspaperboyscameintoevidence。Mr。Sabinawokefromhislongspellofthought。Heboughtanewspaper，andglancedthroughthelistofsteamerswhichhadsailedduringtheweek。Whenthetrainglidedintothedepothewasonhisfeetandreadytoleaveit。
“Youwillreserveourrooms，Duson，foronemonth，“hesaidonthewaytothehotel。WeshallprobablyleaveforEuropeamonthto-morrow。“
“Verygood，sir。“
“YouwereMrs。Peterson’sservant，Duson，beforeyouweremine！“
“Yes，sir。“
“Youhavebeenwithher，Ibelieve，formanyyears。Youaredoubtlessmuchattachedtoher！“
“IndeedIam，sir！“