"I will see Monsieur Edmond Didier; he's a very enterprising young man with the fair s.e.x! In the absence of that villain Freluchon, who confiscates my clothes, he will give me some advice--most excellent advice."

The agent was really enamored of Thelenie; the lovely brunette's great black eyes had turned his head; he did not cease for an instant to think of her whom he had hoped for a brief moment that he had captivated, and that pa.s.sion caused him to forget absolutely the business which his clients placed in his hands.

But Edmond Didier was rarely at home. Chamoureau was no more fortunate in that direction than in respect to Freluchon. Thrice during the day he went to Edmond's rooms and failed to find him.

"What is the use of friends?" thought our widower in despair; "they're never at home when you want to consult 'em! What on earth do these fellows do? What good does it do them to have a home? One's at Rouen, the other goes out before ten in the morning and hasn't returned at eleven in the evening! No matter! To-morrow will be the third day since I called at Madame de Sainte-Suzanne's. I'll go again to-morrow--in a _redingote_! One is not obliged to wear full dress all the time. She doesn't want me to talk to her about love; I'll talk about the Boulevard de Sebastopol which is being built--that can't offend her. But for lack of words I'll try to make my eyes terribly eloquent; she can't prevent my having love in my eyes."

And the next day, instead of going to see Monsieur Courtivaux and attending to the business with which Madame Dalmont had entrusted him, Chamoureau pa.s.sed an hour at his toilet. He tried to scatter over his forehead the tuft of hair that still embellished the back of his head, and having a.s.sured himself that he had hair enough for a single man, he perfumed his handkerchief with essence of Portugal and went to Rue de Ponthieu.

When he reached Madame Sainte-Suzanne's residence, our widower, who had been thinking all the way what he could say to the lady to account for calling again so soon, and had found nothing satisfactory, walked quickly through the hall, saying to himself:

"Never mind! I'll offer to take her to the theatre--whichever she pleases--that can't offend her."

And he ran up the two flights without even speaking to the concierge. He rang at Thelenie's door. The maid answered the bell, and could not help smiling when she recognized the gentleman who had left her mistress in such piteous guise, and torn in several places.

But our widower, who felt quite safe in his redingote and had no straps to his trousers, walked with an exceedingly unconcerned air and held his head erect with much dignity as he asked if Madame de Sainte-Suzanne were visible.

"My mistress has gone out," replied Mademoiselle Melie, with the pert air which servants love to a.s.sume before courteous strangers.

"What! Madame de Sainte-Suzanne is not in?" exclaimed Chamoureau, in a despairing tone.

"No, monsieur; madame has gone out; what is there strange in that?"

"I don't say that I think it strange; but it annoys me exceedingly."

"Had madame made an appointment with monsieur?"

"No; certainly she hadn't made an appointment with me; I did not presume to say anything of the sort."

"Well then, monsieur could not be sure of finding madame, especially as madame often goes out."

"Ah! she often goes out! then it isn't strange that I don't find her in.

But will she return soon? If so, I might wait for her."

"When madame goes out, she never says whether she will stay out long.

And then I must tell monsieur that she doesn't like to have anybody wait for her; she doesn't want anybody to make himself at home in her apartment when she isn't here."

Chamoureau bit his lip and stepped back.

"That makes a difference!" he murmured; "now that I know that it would vex Madame de Sainte-Suzanne, I will not wait for her; but you will be good enough to tell her that Monsieur Chamoureau came to pay his respects to her. Sapristi! I regret that I did not bring a bouquet--I would have left it. Will you remember my name--Chamoureau?"

"Never fear! If I should forget it, I would say: 'The gentleman who tore himself from head to foot the other day called again.'"

"It seems to me quite unnecessary to recall that unpleasant incident. I prefer that you should simply mention my name--Chamoureau."

"Yes, Monsieur--Chameau."

"_Fichtre!_ pray be careful! I didn't say Chameau; you must not confound me with that beast of the desert with two humps. For I flatter myself that I have never had one--although I am a widower."

"Monsieur is quite capable of it; but still a man sometimes wears one without knowing it."

"Do you think so, mademoiselle? If that had happened to me, my wife would have told me; she had no secrets from me!"[I]

"Oh! that makes a difference!"

"Understand, mademoiselle--Chamoureau, not Chameau."

"I will remember, monsieur."

And the maid, laughing in the gentleman's face, because he seemed to her excessively foolish, was in the act of closing the door, when another person appeared and hastily opened it again; then, elbowing aside Chamoureau, who was still standing on the mat, he entered the reception-room with the air of a master, and said abruptly:

"Is Thelenie here? I want to speak to her."

The agent raised his eyes to look at the person who had pushed him aside so unceremoniously. He scrutinized him with the greatest attention when he heard him ask for "Thelenie" simply, and not Madame de Sainte-Suzanne. Such familiarity was most offensive to Chamoureau, and when he saw that the man who indulged in it was fashionably dressed, he was more incensed than ever.

We will not draw the portrait of the newcomer, as we have already seen him at the Opera, in the box of the lady whom he now asked to see. It was Monsieur Beauregard who had applied to the lady's maid, and she, suddenly become respectful, because he spoke to her in an arrogant tone, hastened to reply:

"Madame is not in, monsieur; she went out about an hour ago with her friend Mademoiselle Helose. I do not think that she will return to dinner."

Beauregard walked about the reception-room, then looked the maid in the eyes as he asked:

"Is it true that your mistress has gone out?"

"Yes, monsieur, it's the truth. But if monsieur wishes to go into the salon and madame's bedroom, he will see that I have not lied to him."

"No, it's all right; as she has gone out, I'll be off."

"Will monsieur give me any message for madame?"

"No, what I have to say to her cannot be said by anybody else. I will see her another time."

"If monsieur will tell me what day he will come, so that madame may wait for him----"

"It's not necessary. I do not know myself when I shall come again."

And the gentleman with the yellow complexion, turning toward the door, was about to leave the room, when he saw the business agent, who had remained standing, like a milestone, on the mat, and was scrutinizing him with an expression of mingled amazement and curiosity.

"Who's that?" Beauregard asked the maid, pointing to Chamoureau. And she replied with a smile:

"It's a gentleman who came to see madame."

Thereupon Beauregard examined more carefully the individual on the mat, and soon exclaimed:

"Ah! I recognize him; I know him now! He's the Spaniard of the Opera ball, who kept pulling up his long boots. Exactly! yes! that's just who it is!"

Chamoureau overheard all this; but uncertain how to behave before that person who had been eying him for several moments in a most impertinent way, he decided to leave the mat and beat a retreat. He had already gone downstairs, and was leaving the house, boiling over with wrath, when the gentleman whom he had left on the second floor, and who had descended the stairs behind him, appeared at his side.

Our widower had a very great desire to know who the man was who entered Madame de Sainte-Suzanne's apartment so unceremoniously, and asked for her by her Christian name simply. When he saw him so near, he ventured to bow. Beauregard returned his salutation with an air of mockery, saying: