And the words came back to the minds of both, on that Thursday of Madame de Chantonnay, which many remember to this day.

Not only did they find things changed, but themselves they found no longer the same.

Both remembered the quarrel, and the outcome of it.
Colville, ever tolerant, always leaning toward the compromise that eases a doubting conscience, had, it would almost seem unconsciously, prepared the way for a reconciliation before there was any question of a difference.

On their way back to France, without directly referring to that fatal portrait and the revelation caused by Barebone's unaccountable feat of memory, he had smoothed away any possible scruple.
"France must always be deceived," he had said, a hundred times.

"Better that she should be deceived for an honest than a dishonest purpose--if it is deception, after all, which is very doubtful.