Thelenie turned suddenly, and seizing the gentleman's arm as he was about to leave the box, said to him, no longer seeking to disguise her voice:

"Oh! don't do that, Beauregard; I beg you not to do that; for I don't want Edmond to know that I am here."

"Well, well! so you know me now! Ha! ha! this is amusing; I was beginning to think I had made a mistake myself."

"Come, Beauregard, don't be so spiteful! don't betray me! What motive can you have for injuring me? Have I ever done anything to you?"

"You? oh! you certainly have done no more to me than to other men. And yet--there is a certain matter--But let us not talk of that here; this place would be ill chosen for a serious conversation. I will see you again, and then, I hope, you will answer my questions frankly. I will leave you now, and if I see young Edmond, I will tell him nothing."

"Do you promise?"

"Do you want me to swear?"

"No, that is not necessary."

"You are right; between ourselves, you and I know what to think of oaths."

And the gentleman, with a very slight inclination of the head, left the box in which the two dominos were.

II

EDMOND AND FRELUCHON

In a pleasant little bachelor apartment, on the fourth floor, but in a house occupied by most excellent tenants, on Rue de Provence, a young man hardly twenty-six years of age was impatiently pacing the floor of a bedroom which was used also as a salon. He glanced constantly at a small clock on the mantel, and muttered:

"Almost ten o'clock, and Freluchon doesn't come! Does he expect me to pa.s.s my whole evening waiting for him? Oh! these people who are never on time ought to be fined! I'll give him five minutes more, and then, if he hasn't come, so much the worse for him--I shall go! After all, he won't have any difficulty in finding me."

The young man who said all this to himself was named Edmond Didier. I have told you his age; I will add that he was a very comely fellow, well-built, above middle height; that he had blue eyes shaped a little like those of the Chinese, but with a sweet and tender expression to which the young man owed many conquests. His nose was well-shaped, although it was not aquiline--there are some very pretty noses which are not aquiline; his mouth was intellectual, his teeth suited to the mouth, his forehead broad and open, his chestnut hair very fine and silky, and always arranged simply and without that horrible parting which imparts to the heads of the most dandified men the aspect of those wax models which you see in hair-dressers' windows.

Young Edmond, as you will see, was a very good-looking fellow, especially if we add that all these features combined to form a whole in which there was much character; for you might bring together a pair of large eyes, a pretty mouth, a Greek nose, and handsome hair, and therewith form a whole which would have no expression at all. We often observe this in women, and say as we look at them: "There's a beautiful statue!"

Do not you consider that that which has animation is to be preferred, even though it be less beautiful?

Young Edmond, whose parents had retired to the provinces with a moderate fortune, had received from his uncle some sixty thousand francs, which he had invested in a business house where he was supposed to work, but where he did not work, because he had none too much time to amuse himself, and because he hoped that the thirty-six hundred francs which he received as interest on his investment would suffice for his amus.e.m.e.nts.

Edmond was good-natured and clever; nature had endowed him with a delightful voice, because of which he was very popular in salons. He sang ballads with almost as much soul and taste as poor Achard, who sang so beautifully and who required so little urging; and who died so prematurely, when he was still in the heyday of his talent, leaving behind him so much love, so many friendships, and such deep and lasting regret!

Edmond Didier had a warm heart and rather an unreliable head; he was easily moved and generous, but forgetful, changeable and careless. He lost his temper quickly and recovered it as quickly; he was naturally light-hearted, but had fits of melancholy when he dreamed of a _Sleeping Beauty in the Wood_, whom he would have liked to awaken.

Every day he resolved to turn his mind to something, to work, to try to become a capable man, a man qualified to fill an important post or to manage a business house; but the current of pleasure whirled him along; he always had some new song which an attractive woman had begged him to sing at her next reception; and how can one refuse a woman who tells you that it is her greatest joy to hear you sing? So that he had to study the song instead of going to the merchant who had his funds, to study bookkeeping.

Ah! if the ladies knew how seriously they interfere with a young man's duties! especially with those of a young man who asks nothing better than to have them interfered with!

Now you know young Edmond Didier, who, after trying to be content with the income of his sixty thousand francs, had begun to encroach upon his princ.i.p.al.

At last the bell rang and Edmond hastened to open his door. Another young man, very short and very slender, with a long, peaked face, a long, pointed nose, shrewd eyes, something of the marten in his face and much abandon in his bearing, entered the room, with his hands in his pockets, crying:

"Sapristi! how cold it is!"

The newcomer's name was Freluchon; he had inherited money from his mother and from his uncle, and his pockets were always full. He spent it freely, but he did not throw it out of the window; he devoted much time to pleasure, but he occasionally took a turn in business or speculated a little on the Bourse. He was generally very fortunate in what he undertook, and often succeeded in making more than he spent. He was three years older than Didier, whose intimate friend he was.

He was a good fellow, that is to say, he was always ready to do what anyone wanted him to do, so long as it was not a bore to him. Beneath a frail and sickly appearance, he was blessed with the strength of a Hercules, and could kill an ox with a blow of his fist. Men of that type as a general rule never seek a quarrel with anybody.

"Here you are at last!" cried Edmond as his friend entered. "It's very lucky. I was just going away. You're a full half-hour behindhand."

"First of all, have you a fire? On my word of honor, I am frozen!"

"Oh! we can warm ourselves at the young ladies' room, as they're waiting for us; it's not worth while to settle down here."

"But I say it is; the order of the day and the line of march are changed.--Ah! good! there is a fire; with a little blowing and another stick, it will go all right."

"What is there new? Why aren't we going to Henriette's, where Amelia was to join us? That was all arranged this morning."

"Yes, but since this morning, many things have happened.--Where in the devil do you keep your bellows?"

"There, in that corner.--Come, Freluchon, I should be very glad to know what all this means."

"Just a moment,--when the fire's well kindled; good! now it's blazing up. A fine invention is fire; it must have been the sun that suggested the idea. The Peruvians worship the sun, and I believe I am descended from them. I too worship the sun--especially in winter; in summer I would gladly do without it."

"When you've finished, perhaps you'll answer me."

"How impatient he is! Let us go softly--_piano_, as the Italians say.--My dear fellow, this is what has happened: we went much too fast with those young women--so-called flower-makers! We made love to them, they listened to us; they are very pretty. Now, that is all very well, but we undertook to dazzle them by our generosity--there's the foolish blunder! Not content with treating them to superfine dinners, set off with iced wines which they poured down like Prussians, we began at once to give them presents. You gave your Amelia a beautiful opera gla.s.s which you used at the theatre, and I handed over a dainty gold-rimmed eyegla.s.s which I had lent to Henriette, who a.s.sured me that it was perfectly adapted to her sight. When those damsels saw that they had only to wish in order to obtain, they said to themselves: 'We must wish for something else.'--They took us for great n.o.bles or for gulls--perhaps for both--and determined to hold us to ransom."

"You always think that somebody is trying to cheat you. Why think that of those young flower-makers, who seem to be fond of work and to lead orderly lives? I have been to Amelia's only three times, but I have always found them at work making flowers."

"So have I; but I have noticed that it was always the same flower that was under way. It seems that it's a difficult one to make!"

"They don't seem to be hard up; they have some very pretty mahogany furniture, which they pay for by pleasure."

"Yes; as for that, I have never doubted it. Indeed, Henriette told me, in the beginning of our intimacy, when I complimented her on her lodgings, that she had paid for it all by her work and by the way she pa.s.sed her nights; but as they lie constantly, they forget one day what they told you the day before. Here's a proof of it--look."

"What is this letter?"

"A billet-doux that I received from Henriette this morning; she doesn't write badly, I must do her that justice; and not a mistake in spelling!

That's very nice for a flower-maker, but it's all the more dangerous.

Take it and read it."

Edmond took the letter that his friend handed him and read as follows:

"My dear Freluchon:

"A terrible catastrophe has befallen me; my furniture, which I thought was paid for, is not. The upholsterer is going to compel me to leave my apartment instantly, if I do not pay four hundred francs on account. Be kind enough to lend me that amount, which I will pay you very soon. Otherwise you will not find me at my rooms, as I shall be turned out, and I have no idea where Amelia and I will go. You may hand the money to the woman who brings this letter; but be sure to seal it.

"Your loving and faithful friend,