"What do you mean by ladies' wines? sweet ones, I suppose?"

"Exactly."

"I warn you that I can't endure your sweet wines, except champagne; and unless madame cares for them----"

"Not at all," said Frederique.

"Strike off your sweet wines, then. Bah! they make me sick; I can't drink 'em! But these--just ask Charles how I punish 'em!"

"I should say that it isn't necessary to ask me," I said; "it's self-evident."

"Does that make you cross, my dear boy? Don't you like to have your Rosette hold her own with you to-day? Are you going to be in the sulks at table too? Ah! madame, my aunts have spoiled him, and no mistake; he was much nicer before he went the rounds of them."

Madame Dauberny nudged my knee and whispered:

"Be more agreeable, or she will make a scene with you."

I strove to put myself in harmony with the general merriment. Rosette chattered incessantly; Balloquet sang, with his eyes fixed on Frederique; she laughed at my grisette's sallies, and from time to time told us some very amusing anecdotes.

"Ah! if I could tell stories like madame," cried Rosette, "I know what I'd do!"

"What would you do?" asked Balloquet.

"I wouldn't do anything else. I'd tell stories all day, and make them up all night.--Kiss me, Charles!"

"Sapristi! Rosette, are we going to begin that again?"

"Do you hear him, madame? He refuses to kiss me, the villain!"

"Mademoiselle," I said, in a serious tone, "I am sorry to be obliged to inform you that there are occasions when such liberties are permissible, and others when we must abstain from them; you should understand that."

Rosette pushed her chair away from the table, muttering:

"It wasn't worth while to bring me with you, just to say such things as that to me."

With that, she put her hand over her eyes and began to weep. The devil!

That was the climax! I was in torment.

Frederique tried to console Rosette, and said to me:

"Come, come, monsieur, don't make mademoiselle unhappy; she is right; you choose a very inopportune time to lecture her. Kiss her at once, and make peace with her."

I obeyed; whereupon Balloquet exclaimed:

"Mon Dieu! I would not wait to be asked twice, if someone would allow me to kiss her."

It was extraordinary what an a.s.s the fellow seemed to me to make of himself!

Luckily, with Rosette laughter always followed tears. She speedily forgot her grievance, and thought of nothing but doing honor to the champagne, which made its appearance just then. Frederique held her own with her, but did not lose her head. Balloquet, who was deeply impressed by the way in which those two bore themselves at table, tried to surpa.s.s them, got very tipsy, and nearly strangled himself pouring down champagne.

"Well done!" said Rosette; "that'll teach you to try to pour down wine like that; it seems to me such a stupid way! What's the use of drinking anything good, if you don't taste it, if you don't get the flavor of it?

You throw it down your neck, as if it was a medicine you were afraid of smelling! How sensible that is! You might as well drink cheap claret; it would have the same effect as champagne."

Balloquet succeeded in ceasing to cough, and a moment later, when we were a little quieter than usual, he said to me:

"By the way, Charles, have you had any news of the man of the ring?"

"No, no, I haven't--found him yet. Why don't you drink, Balloquet?"

I was afraid that the young doctor would be guilty of some indiscretion, and I tried to change the subject. But Rosette chimed in:

"What's that? He said something about a ring. There must be a woman in that story, and I want to hear it."

"Yes, mademoiselle, yes; it is a story about a woman."

"But a very sad one," said I, interrupting Balloquet; "this is not at all a fitting time to tell it."

"Why not? I like sad things too; I like plays that make you cry. Oh!

Monsieur Larose, do tell us the story."

"With pleasure, mademoiselle!"

I trembled lest Balloquet should disclose what I had concealed from Frederique. He did not know that the man of the ring was Monsieur Dauberny; but if he should mention the name Bouqueton, Frederique would know at once that the man was her husband. I tried to make signs to Balloquet to hold his peace; but he did not look at me, and began his tale.

Frederique said nothing; but she watched us closely and did not lose a word of what the young doctor said. Stammering and hesitating a little, he told poor Annette's story; but he did not mention the a.s.sa.s.sin's name.

"What a ghastly story!" exclaimed Frederique, with a shudder.

"It's horrible!" cried Rosette. "Oh! what an abominable man! But didn't the poor girl tell you his name?"

"Yes, yes," replied Balloquet, "she told us. The devil take the name!

Would you believe that I can't remember it?--But you know it, Rochebrune, as you know the man."

"You know that villain, Charles? Oh! but you must have had him arrested, then?"

"No, I could not; we have no evidence."

"But what about that ring that he gave the poor girl?"

"That ring I have at home. I am keeping it carefully; some day, I hope that it will help me--to avenge the poor girl."

"And you won't tell us the man's name?"

"What good would it do? The whole thing is too shocking. The criminal's name had better remain a secret until the victim is avenged."

Frederique did not say a word, but she kept her eyes fastened upon me all the while. The time for returning to Paris arrived, and I was not sorry. The story of Annette had saddened Rosette and made Frederique very thoughtful. We returned to our cab. Balloquet continued to do the amiable with Madame Dauberny; I verily believe that he asked her permission to call to pay his respects. What a self-sufficient puppy! I did not hear her reply. Rosette pinched me, probably because I was not listening to what she said.

I wanted to take Frederique home; Balloquet insisted, on the contrary, that Rosette and I should be set down first. We were on the point of quarrelling. Rosette said nothing, and I thought that she had fallen asleep. Madame Dauberny put an end to our discussion by calling to the cabman to stop on the boulevard. She hastily alighted, bade us adieu, and hurried away. But Balloquet instantly opened the door, crying: