"You mean that she is not receiving, for she must be at home; did she not return from the country to-day?"

"Yes, monsieur; madame returned to-day. But I a.s.sure you that she went out this evening, not very long ago; and I believe I heard someone say that she was going to the Opera."

"To the Opera?"

"Yes, monsieur; Mamzelle Adele told us that her mistress was going to the Opera."

I was determined to find her. If I allowed that evening to pa.s.s without having an explanation with her, she would be quite capable of leaving Paris on the morrow; she would escape me again, and for a long time perhaps. I decided to go to the Opera. Frederique was not one of those women who are afraid to go to the theatre alone; more than once I had heard her say:

"Why do I need a companion? When the fancy takes me to go to the theatre, I send and hire a box, and I go. In my box, I am alone, I am at home, and no one has the right to come there to annoy me."

I arrived at the Opera; I went into the orchestra and stood at the entrance, from which I examined one side of the auditorium. I did not see Frederique. I walked to the other side of the orchestra; there was a large audience, and several men were already standing at that entrance.

I slipped in behind them and began my inspection. That time my search was short: I saw her, alone, in a _baignoire_, leaning back a little.

Was she listening attentively to the performance, or was she absorbed by her thoughts? Before joining her, I gave myself the pleasure of gazing at her for several minutes.

Suddenly one of the men in front of me began to speak, so loudly that I did not lose a single word; indeed, I was speedily convinced that he intended that I should hear.

"I say, do you see that lady yonder, in one of the _baignoires_--all alone in her box?"

"In a pearl-gray dress, with black hair, and long cork-screw curls?"

"Exactly. What do you think of her?"

"Not bad--a Spanish type of face; but a little pale."

"Perhaps that may be grief at losing me."

"Oho! is she----?"

"Yes, my dear fellow, she's an old flame of mine; she's still a----"

I did not allow Saint-Bergame to complete his sentence; if I had not recognized his voice, I should have guessed his ident.i.ty from his language. I grasped his arm, and said to him in an undertone:

"Monsieur, the man who has been a woman's lover and tells of it is a conceited a.s.s; the man who insults her in public is a coward!"

Saint-Bergame turned, eyed me from head to foot with an insolent air, and rejoined in a loud voice:

"Ah! you const.i.tute yourself that lady's champion, do you? To be sure, it's your turn now."

I could not contain my wrath; I struck him in the face. Saint-Bergame tried to rush at me; but our quarrel had attracted general attention; someone threw himself between us, and I noticed then for the first time that Saint-Bergame's companion was Fouvenard.

We left the hall; several persons tried to adjust our difficulty, but I satisfied them that their mediation was useless, and that we knew perfectly well how the affair must end. I joined Saint-Bergame, who, with Fouvenard, awaited me in a corner of the vestibule. The latter stared at me in amazement, murmuring:

"What! is it you? What is this quarrel about?"

"There are no explanations to be given, messieurs. At what hour to-morrow?"

"At nine o'clock--no, ten o'clock, at Porte Maillot," said Saint-Bergame, who was trembling with anger. "I don't like to rise early. I shall have time enough to kill you."

"Very good, monsieur! Your weapon?"

"The sword."

"That is all."

"I shall have monsieur and another second with me."

"It seems to me that monsieur would suffice."

"You evidently do not fight often, monsieur, and are not familiar with the customs of duelling."

I did not consider it necessary to reply to this new insult.

"Very good; I will have two witnesses," I said, and walked away.

I returned to the hall and was going toward Madame Dauberny's box, when a lady rushed up to me. It was Frederique. She took my arm and led me away, saying:

"Come! let us go! let us go!"

I followed her from the building. She almost made me run; she squeezed my arm convulsively; I spoke to her, and she did not reply; but she wept, and hid her face in her handkerchief. At last we arrived at her house. Then she threw herself into a chair and her sobs burst forth anew. I knelt at her feet; I took her hand and begged her to tell me the cause of her grief.

"The cause? the cause? You ask me that when you are to fight to-morrow--for me?"

"I am to fight?"

"Oh! no falsehoods! I recognized you at the entrance to the orchestra.

You struck Saint-Bergame."

"Yes, for he insulted you."

She took my head in her hands and kissed me again and again, crying:

"Ah! that was well done! Thanks, my friend! I expected nothing less from you."

"Well! in that case, why these tears, this grief, when I am going to punish a man who had insulted you once before? I found this evening an opportunity that I have been looking for ever since our drive in the Bois de Boulogne."

"Oh! of course, this duel would be an everyday affair, if---- Mon Dieu!

it is my fault! always my fault! Why did I leave the country? why did I come back to Paris? All this would not have happened, if I had stayed at Fontenay. But you, my friend--why did you come back--why did you follow me? Why didn't you stay with that woman whom you love--and who has no idea of spurning you now?"

"You are all astray, Frederique: it was to stay with the woman I love that I returned to Paris; it was to be with her that I followed you; for the woman I love--not with friendship, but with love--the most sincere, the most pa.s.sionate love--with a love that will end only with my life--is you--you! Yes! though you banish me from your presence again, I can no longer content myself with the t.i.tle of friend, beneath which I have with difficulty concealed all that I felt for you!"

"He loves me! he loves me!" murmured Frederique, gazing at me with an expression of the purest ecstasy in her lovely eyes. Then, giving way to her emotion, lacking strength to say more, she fell into my arms. I will not try to describe my bliss. One cannot describe what one feels so keenly.

When we had recovered the faculty of speech, Frederique said to me, with her head resting on my shoulder:

"The least that I can do is to reveal all my secrets to you now; there must be no more secrets between us. I felt drawn toward you the first moment that I knew you. There are, I have no question, certain bonds of sympathy which we cannot understand, but which draw us toward those whom we are destined to love. But at that time you were engrossed by Armantine. Remember that I refused to allow you to call on me. I had no idea that you would fall in love with me, but I felt that your presence would be dangerous to me. I saw you again at Armantine's, depressed and disheartened by her coquetry; I determined to console you by offering you my friendship; I was acting in perfect good faith then, I proposed to be your friend and nothing more--when that kiss that you gave me while I was pretending to doze, that kiss which set my whole being on fire, proved to me that I had other sentiments for you than those of a friend. But you loved Armantine; I did not choose to be simply a pa.s.sing caprice to you, so it was necessary to break off our relations altogether. And that is what I did, without ceasing for an instant to think of you. Later, I learned what Monsieur Sordeville was, and I lost no time in urging you not to go again to his house; you did not follow my advice, being still in love with Armantine.--Then came the scene on the Champs-elysees; I had had nothing to do with bringing it about; but I am too honest not to confess that her treatment of you gave me some little hope. We met again, and again I offered you my friendship; but I had much difficulty in concealing the true state of my heart. Your liaison with Rosette made me unhappy, but I soon realized that it was not love. When I saw that other attractive and interesting young woman in your rooms, fresh torments a.s.sailed me, and I was very happy when you consented to go away from Mignonne. Finally, at Fontenay my secret was at my tongue's end every day; for I fancied that your eyes expressed something different from friendship. Then we fell in with Armantine again, and she recommenced her coquetries with you. Ah! that was too much! I no longer had the strength to carry on the struggle; I came away, fully determined to part from you forever. But you would not have it so; it is I whom you love. Ah! my friend, my bliss at this moment more than makes up for all the torture I have endured!"

For more than an hour we abandoned ourselves to the ecstatic joy of two hearts which for the first time have declared their mutual love. But suddenly Frederique's brow darkened, and she looked sadly into my face, crying: