"That's right; and then, you must always be with me in the morning when I go to my work, and at night when I go home; be my protector, my guardian angel, and I am very sure that no one will try again to induce me to go into a restaurant."

"To be always with you--that is my dearest wish; but sometimes----"

"Your work--yes, I understand. But try to be always at liberty in the morning and evening. Isn't it enough to work all day?"

"And if anyone should send word to you to go to a strange house, never consent."

"Don't be afraid; I will remember the little restaurant. I wish you could have seen that man's face when he saw that I had escaped him. Oh!

it would have made you laugh. Mon Dieu! it must be awfully late; we have been talking a long while."

"It seems to me as if it had been only a minute."

"Oh! don't think that it's a bore to me! far from it; but my aunt will want to know where I have been so late. Do you know what time it is, Monsieur Paul?"

"I haven't any watch, mademoiselle."

"Nor I; but we can look into the watchmaker's as we pa.s.s. Almost eleven, do you see? And I had so much more to say to you!"

"And so had I!"

"It must wait till to-morrow. Here I am at my door; adieu! till to-morrow!"

"Till to-morrow!"

"I'll try to remember all I had to say to you."

The lovers parted, regretting that they had not time to talk more. It is always so while love lasts; for even if they have nothing more to say, they still have the pleasure of looking at each other.

XX

TWO RIVALS

The clock had just struck eleven. Madame Baldimer, dressed with even more coquetry than usual, had been waiting a long while in her boudoir; impatience, uneasiness, and anger gleamed in her eyes. Again and again she rose, paced the floor excitedly, stopped to listen for the doorbell, then looked at her clock. For the third time she pulled a bellrope, and her maid appeared.

"Has no one come, Rosa?"

"No, madame."

"It is inconceivable! I wrote him to come at ten, and now it is eleven!

He is always so eager, so prompt! I cannot understand it. If he had triumphed, I could conceive of his failing to keep an appointment; but so long as a man is not our conqueror, he is our slave. Can it be that Albert is not like other men?"

"Is it Monsieur Albert Vermoncey whom madame expects this evening?"

"To be sure."

"And if Monsieur le Comte Dahlborne should come also?"

"Well! you will admit him."

"Even if Monsieur Albert is here?"

"Mon Dieu! yes; how stupid you are!"

The maid left the room. Madame Baldimer threw herself on a divan, with her eyes still fixed on the clock; and as the hand circled the dial, her face a.s.sumed a serious, sombre expression; one would have said that, with the speeding minutes, all the plans she had formed were vanishing in air.

At last, the bell rang. The fair widow drew herself up with an almost convulsive movement.

"Here he is!" she exclaimed, and her features a.s.sumed an expression of joy and triumph.

In another instant the door opened. The maid announced Monsieur Albert Vermoncey, and the young man darted joyously into the boudoir.

"Here I am at last!" he cried; "I have had a hard time of it, madame, and I did think that it would be impossible for me to-night to enjoy the pleasure of seeing you, and of this delightful interview which I desired so earnestly!"

"Mon Dieu! monsieur, what has happened to you, pray? I have been expecting you since ten o'clock. I had no sooner returned from the country than I hastened to let you know; I even did you the favor to say that I should expect you this evening. I thought that you would be very glad to see me again. But, instead of that, monsieur does not come.

Perhaps I did wrong to write you--I have taken you from your pleasures----"

"Oh! do not say that. But pray listen to my story--it is very amusing, I a.s.sure you. I am just from the guardhouse."

"From the guardhouse! Why, what have you been doing?"

"It all grew out of a joke we intended to play on a certain young man; I and three of my friends were waiting for him on Place des Italiens. As he owes five hundred francs to a gentleman to whom he gave an olive as security,--it's a gambling debt,--we agreed that, as soon as he appeared, we would all rush upon him, each of us presenting an olive and demanding five hundred francs. But one of my friends, who is naturally very absent-minded, made a mistake and pounced upon a respectable citizen, who was waiting to buy a check for the Opera-Comique. He was frightened, and shouted _thief_. We ran up, and so did the guard; to cut it short, we were all four taken to the guardhouse at the theatre, and I fancy we should have been locked up for the night, had it not been for a staff officer, a friend of my father, who happened to pa.s.s. He answered for us, and then they consented to believe that we were not thieves, and they set us at liberty."

Madame Baldimer laughed heartily at Albert's adventure. Meanwhile, he took up a package which he had deposited on a table when he came in, and placed it on the lovely widow's knees.

"See," he said, "is not this what you expressed a wish to possess?"

Madame Baldimer removed the paper, which contained a magnificent cashmere shawl. Her face was radiant and she bestowed the sweetest of smiles on the young man, murmuring:

"Oh! but you are really too gallant; it is too beautiful, and a present of such value---- No; I cannot accept it."

"You accept a superb fan from Count Dahlborne!"

"There's a vast difference between a fan and this; people will say that I lead you on to do foolish things."

"Ah! I shall be only too happy to do them, if your love is the reward."

Madame Baldimer did not reply, but she allowed Albert to take her hand and cover it with kisses. He tried to put his arm about her waist; but she gently repulsed him, saying:

"But how did you succeed in finding out that it was this very shawl that I wanted?"

"Didn't you tell me that it was like one that Madame Plays wore at one of Count Dahlborne's receptions?"

"Yes, I remember----"

"Well! I called on Madame Plays and asked her to show me the beautiful cashmere she wore that day."