"You broke that mirror, monsieur; you broke it!"

Beau Arthur, with no outward indication of excitement, smiled at the perfumeress as he rejoined:

"Very good! my dear woman, if I broke your mirror, I'll pay for it. You shouldn't lose your temper for a little thing like that. How much will it cost to replace it?"

"Twenty francs, monsieur."

"Twenty francs! here's your money! a mere bagatelle!--I am not sorry to have christened my switch," he added, as he walked away.

x.x.xII

THE FAREWELLS

When he learned that his nephew wished to leave Paris again, Monsieur Grandcourt did not conceal the regret which he felt at the thought of another separation; but when he realized that Gustave still loved Madame Monleard, he placed no obstacle in the way of his departure, and it was decided that the young man should go to Germany.

"During your absence," said the banker, "an individual came here to inquire for you--I say an _individual_, for I don't know how else to describe the man, whose whole aspect was more than questionable. His name, I believe, is Arthur Cherami, and he claims to be an intimate friend of yours, because you paid for his dinner the day Mademoiselle f.a.n.n.y was married."

"Ah! yes, I know whom you mean, uncle; I have seen him; I met him a couple of days ago."

"I trust, my dear Gustave, that you will not affect that gentleman's society. You don't know, perhaps, what he did? He fought a duel with Monsieur Monleard, after making an insulting remark to his wife."

"I know it, uncle. But, in the first place, that day, or rather that night, the poor devil was a little tipsy--he lost his head--he thought he was avenging me; after all, it only goes to prove that he's a brave fellow."

"My dear boy, the gentry who stop public conveyances on the highroad are generally brave fellows, too, but that doesn't prevent their being brigands."

"Oh! uncle, do you mean that you think that that poor Arthur----"

"I don't say that he's a thief; but I don't advise you to make a companion of him."

"He's no fool; he has had a good education, and he knows the world."

"He is all the more reprehensible for having allowed himself to sink so low! For he seems to me to be always in search of a dinner. However, as you are going away again for some time, I trust that your relations with the fellow will be entirely broken off."

Gustave hastened the preparations for his journey; but, being obliged to wait for certain letters which his uncle desired to give him for his correspondents, he was not ready to leave Paris until the following Thursday evening. He desired to see Adolphine once more before he went; she had always been so kind and affectionate to him, that it seemed to him that it would be ungracious to leave Paris again without bidding her adieu. But the fear of another meeting with f.a.n.n.y held him back. He suddenly remembered, however, that that was the day of the grand affair to which Madame Monleard had invited him.

"Surely," he said to himself, "f.a.n.n.y has too much to do at home to-day, to find time to go to her sister's. So that I can call on Adolphine with no fear of meeting her whose presence causes me more pain than pleasure now."

Adolphine was at home, engaged in preparations for the ball; for although she antic.i.p.ated no pleasure at her sister's magnificent function, she could not do otherwise than go. She was looking with an indifferent air at a lovely ball gown which her father had given her, and which would have delighted most young women of her age beyond measure.

"But," thought Adolphine, "what do I care whether people think me pretty? There will be n.o.body at the ball whom I care to please. Ah! if he were going! But he was wise to refuse; he could not, ought not to go."

Madeleine noiselessly opened the door, and said:

"Mamzelle, here's the young man who came the other day--the one who's so good-looking, and seems so sad-like."

"Monsieur Gustave?"

"Yes, that Monsieur Gustave, who was so scared by your sister the other time, that he went right away."

"Mon Dieu! Is father at home?"

"Yes, mamzelle; but he's in his room with Monsieur Batonnin, who came just a minute ago. They'll probably have a lot to talk about, and you know your father hardly ever comes into your room. And, to-day, he knows that you're getting your dress ready."

"Show Gustave in, quickly."

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, flowers, ribbons, all were thrown aside; Adolphine was so happy at the thought of seeing Gustave. In a moment, he entered the room, ran to her side, and pressed her hand affectionately.

"Will you forgive me for disturbing you again, dear Adolphine?" he asked.

"Will I forgive you! Why, I am very glad to see you; for, when you went away the other day, you said that you wouldn't come again, and that grieved me much."

"That was because I was so unprepared to meet your sister. I didn't expect to see her, and I confess that it affected me so deeply that it revived all my suffering."

"Oh! I saw that; but it was by the merest chance that you met her; she comes here very seldom."

"No matter; I would not have run the risk of a second meeting; but I remembered that this is the day of her grand ball, and I thought that she would have no leisure to come here this morning."

"But I should have said that f.a.n.n.y was glad to see you."

"Oh! that makes no difference, my good little sister; her glances, her voice, her smile, all made my heart ache! You can't imagine what agony it is to be with a person you love, and who doesn't love you!"

"Yes, yes, I understand."

"Especially when you have imagined for some time that you possessed that person's heart; when you have flattered yourself with the prospect of pa.s.sing your life with her! To see that woman again, when she belongs to another, is the most frightful torture. f.a.n.n.y smiled at me, she asked me to call on her. But I would have preferred a cold, harsh greeting a hundred times over; I would have liked her to avoid my presence as I meant to avoid hers; for then I would have thought: 'I am not utterly indifferent to her.'--However, that won't happen again, for I am going away, and I have come to say good-bye."

"You are going away again! Mon Dieu! you have only just returned!"

"Ah! I should have done better not to return so soon. Living in Paris weighs on me, it recalls the past too vividly."

"And where are you going now?"

"To Germany, Austria--as far away as possible!"

"For a long time?"

"Oh! yes, for I don't propose to return until I am thoroughly cured of my unhappy pa.s.sion."

Adolphine put her handkerchief to her eyes.

"But it's not our fault," she stammered,--"if my sister doesn't love you--and yet, because she doesn't, we--must lose a friend."

"Dear Adolphine, such woe-begone friends as I am are hardly worth regretting."

"Do you think so? But suppose I like them so?"