Just then they heard a sound of laughter， and looking up， to their horror perceived that they were not alone. For there， seated upon stones at the end of the tiny valley， in composed and comfortable attitudes， which suggested that they had not arrived that moment， were two gentlemen， who appeared to be highly amused.
Godfrey knew them at once， although he had not seen them since the previous autumn. They were Brother Josiah Smith， the spiritualist， and Professor Petersen， the investigating Dane， whom he used to meet at the séances in the Villa Ogilvy.
"I guess， young Brother Knight，" said the former， his eyes sparkling with sarcastic merriment， "that there is no paint on you. When you find a flower， you know how to turn it to the best possible use."
"The substance of flowers is fragile， especially if of the lily tribe， and impedes nothing，" remarked the learned Dane in considered tones， though what he meant Godfrey did not understand at the moment. On consideration he understood well enough.
"Our mutual friend， Madame Riennes， who is absent in Italy， will be greatly amused when she hears of this episode，" said Brother Smith.
"She is indeed a remarkable woman， for only this morning I received a letter in which she informed me that very soon I should meet you， young man， under peculiar circumstances， how peculiar she did not add.
Well， I congratulate you and the young lady. I assure you， you made quite a pretty picture with nothing but that flower between you， though， I admit， it was rough on the flower. If I remember right you are fond of the classics， as I am， and will recall to mind a Greek poet named Theocritus. I think， had he been wandering here in the Alps to-day， he would have liked to write one of his idylls about you two and that flower."
"Because of the interruption give pardon， for it is owed an apology，"@@said the solemn Professor， adding， "I think it must have been the emanation of Madame Riennes herself which led us to this place， where we did not at all mean to come， for she is very anxious to know how you progress and what you are doing."
"Yes， young friend，" broke in Brother Smith， not without a touch of malice， for like the rest he was resentful of Godfrey's desertion of their "circle，" "and now we shall be able to tell her."
"Say then，" said Juliette， "who are these gentlemen， and of what do they talk？"
"They--are--friends of mine，" Godfrey began to explain with awkward hesitation， but she cut him short with：
"I like not your friends. They make a mock of me， and I will never forgive you."
"But Juliette， I----" he began， and got no further， for she turned and ran away. Anxious to explain， he ran after her， pursued by the loud hilarity of the intruding pair. In vain， for Juliette was singularly swift of foot， and he might as well have pursued Atalanta.
She reached the Maison Blanche， which fortunately was empty， a clear ten yards ahead of him， and shut herself in her room， whence， declaring that she had a headache， she did not emerge till the following morning.
Godfrey departed to the observatory where he often worked in summer， feeling very sore and full of reflections. He had not really meant to kiss Juliette， at least he thought not， and it was unthinkable that she meant to kiss him， since， so far as he was aware， no young woman ever wanted to do such a thing， being， every one of them， doubtless， as unapproachable and frigid as the topmost， snowy peak of the Alps.
(Such was， and always remained his attitude， where the other *** was concerned， one not without inconvenience in a practical world of disillusions.) No， it was that confounded flower which brought about this pure accident--as though Nature， which designs such accidents， had not always a flower， or something equally serviceable， up her sleeve.
Moreover， had it not been for that accursed pair， sent， doubtless， to spy on him by Madame Riennes， the accident would never have mattered； at least not much. He could have apologized suitably to Juliette， that is， if she wanted an apology， which she showed no signs of doing until she saw the two men. Indeed， at the moment， he thought that she seemed rather amused.
He thought of searching out Brother Smith and Professor Petersen， and explaining to them exactly what had happened in full detail， and should they still continue their ribald jests， of punching their heads， which as a manly young fellow， he was quite capable of doing.
Reflection showed him， however， that this course might not be wise， since such adventures are apt to end in the police-court， where the flower， and its fruit， would obtain undue publicity. No， he must leave the business alone， and trust that Juliette would be merciful.
Supposing that she were to tell Madame that he had tried to kiss her， though probably she would /not/ mention that he had actually succeeded！
The mere idea made him feel cold down the back. He felt sure that Madame would believe the worst of him； to judge from their conversations， ladies， good as they all were， invariably did seem to believe the worst in such affairs. Should he throw himself upon the mercy of the Pasteur？ Again， no. It would be so hard to make him comprehend. Also， if he did， he might suggest that the altar was the only possible expiation. And--and， oh！ he must confess it， she was very nice and sweet， but he did /not/ wish to marry Juliette and live with her all his life.
No， there was but one thing to be done： keep the burden of his secret locked in his own breast， though， unfortunately， it was locked as well in those of Juliette and of two uninvited observers， and probably would soon also be locked in the capacious bosom of Madame Riennes.
For the rest， towards Juliette in the future， he would observe an attitude of strictest propriety； never more should she have occasion to complain of his conduct， which henceforth would be immaculate.
Alas！ how easy it is for the most innocent to be misjudged， and apparently， not without reason.