"I thank you, Monsieur Cherami. Do you know Monsieur Gustave Darlemont?"

"Do I know him! He is my best friend, my Euryalus, my Orestes, my Pythias.--Yes, indeed, madame; I do know him and appreciate him; he is a charming fellow, who deserves to be loved."

"Tell me frankly, Monsieur Cherami,--surely you have no reason now to conceal the truth from me,--did Gustave ask you to fight with my husband?"

"Ah! so madame knows that it was I who----"

"Who fought a duel with Monsieur Monleard. To be sure; but have no fear; I bear you no ill-will at all for that."

"She's a charming creature," said Cherami to himself; "I fancy that she would bear me no more ill-will if I had killed her husband."

"But, monsieur," rejoined f.a.n.n.y, "be good enough to tell me why you called me faithless when you saw me pa.s.s?"

"Oh! mon Dieu! my dear madame, it's very easy to understand. I had dined with poor Gustave at the restaurant where you gave your wedding party.

During the whole meal, the dear fellow was in such utter despair that it was painful to see him. He didn't eat, he didn't drink; I was compelled to dine for two, and to hold on to him every minute to keep him from seeking you out in the midst of your party."

"Really! Poor fellow! was he so broken up as that?"

"In the evening, he spoke to your sister and made her promise that, when you came back for the ball, she would arrange it so that he could have an interview with you."

"My sister never told me a word of all this. That Adolphine's a strange creature!"

"On the contrary, it seems that she sent word to Gustave's uncle, to come to take him away."

"What business was it of hers?"

"The uncle came and compelled his nephew to go with him; I was left alone. I had drunk quite a lot of punch; I had looked in at a wedding party on the floor above yours. As I came from that party, heated by dancing, and still thinking of my disconsolate friend, I caught sight of you, and I let slip that remark; which I retract to-day, and offer a thousand apologies for making it."

"You are freely forgiven. So Gustave had nothing to do with the duel?"

"He knew absolutely nothing about it until he returned from Spain."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Alas, no! In Prussia, I believe. I have been several times to ask; but he has an uncle who is the most disagreeable man you can imagine! If he weren't so closely connected with my friend, I would have run him through before this. Still, Gustave must return some time; I am on the watch for him."

"When you hear anything about him, it will be very kind of you to let me know. This is my new address."

"Be sure, madame, that I shall be only too happy to prove my zeal."

"Adieu, Monsieur Cherami!"

"Madame, accept my most respectful homage.--I don't know whether she is sincerely fond of Gustave," thought Cherami, as the charming widow left him, "but it is certain that she is burning to see him again."

XLII

ORESTES AND PYLADES

f.a.n.n.y had been a widow more than six months, when, as Cherami was approaching Monsieur Grandcourt's abode one morning, he saw Gustave come out. He uttered a joyful exclamation, and hastened to throw his arms about the young traveller, crying:

"_Tandem_! _denique_! here he is at last! this is good luck, indeed!

d.a.m.nation! you've been away a long while, but we will hope that it's the last time."

"Good-day, my dear Arthur!" said Gustave, as they shook hands. "Were you coming to see my uncle?"

"Your uncle! Sapristi! he's a dear creature, is your uncle; let's talk about something else. Why, I have been here a hundred times; I wanted to get your address, so that I could write to you or come after you; but it was impossible to obtain the slightest information from your uncle. When did you return?"

"Last night, at nine o'clock. But why were you so anxious to know where I was? What had you to tell me that was so important?"

"Hasn't your uncle told you anything?"

"We had a talk this morning, on business; that's all."

"Ah! the old fox! there's no danger that he would tell you what interested you most."

"Then do you tell me, quickly, Cherami."

"Your former pa.s.sion, that little woman you loved so dearly----"

"f.a.n.n.y! Great G.o.d! is she dead?"

"No, no! she's not dead; she's in bewitching health, she's just as pretty as ever, and more than that--she's a widow."

"A widow! Great heaven! can it be possible?"

"It's more than possible, it's so. Her husband speculated in stocks, and ruined himself; then, _crac_! a pistol-shot--you understand."

"Oh! what a calamity! Why, it's perfectly ghastly; how long ago was it?"

"Almost immediately after you went away."

"Poor f.a.n.n.y! she expected to find her happiness in that marriage; how she must have grieved! how bitterly she must have wept!"

"My dear Gustave, you don't know that young woman at all. She has very great strength of character; she received the news of her husband's death with a stoical courage worthy of the Spartan women who sent their sons to war, bidding them to return as victors or not at all."

"How do you know that, Cherami?"

"Pardieu! because it was I to whom her husband confided his last wishes and the mission of informing his wife of his death."

"To you! you who fought a duel with him?"

"Precisely! that duel made us the best friends in the world. I will tell you all about it in detail another time. Let it suffice for the present, that the young widow, who is already thoroughly consoled, does not cease to talk about you, to ask about you, and to inquire whether you will return soon."

"Is that true? you are not deceiving me? f.a.n.n.y thinks of me?"