"For Gilbert."

At this name Oliva trembled.

"Ah, mon Dieu!" she cried. "How do you know?" Then with, a sigh said, "Oh, sir! you have p.r.o.nounced a name indeed fertile in remembrances. You knew Gilbert?"

"Yes; since I speak to you of him."

"Alas!"

"A charming lad, upon my word. You loved him?"

"He was handsome. No, perhaps not; but I thought him so; he was full of mind, my equal in birth, but Gilbert thought no woman his equal."

"Not even Mademoiselle de Ta----"

"Oh, I know whom you mean, sir. You are well instructed. Yes, Gilbert loved higher than the poor Nicole: you are possessed of terrible secrets, sir; tell me, if you can," she continued, looking earnestly at him, "what has become of him?"

"You should know best."

"Why, in heaven's name?"

"Because if he followed you from Taverney to Paris, you followed him from Paris to Trianon."

"Yes, that is true, but that is ten years ago; and I wished to know what hag pa.s.sed since the time I ran away, and since he disappeared. When Gilbert loved Mademoiselle de----"

"Do not p.r.o.nounce names aloud," said he.

"Well, then, when he loved her so much that each tree at Trianon was witness to his love----"

"You loved him no more."

"On the contrary, I loved him more than ever; and this love was my ruin.

I am beautiful, proud, and, when I please, insolent; and would lay my head on the scaffold rather than confess myself despised."

"You have a heart, Nicole?"

"I had then," she said, sighing.

"This conversation makes you sad."

"No, it does me good to speak of my youth. But tell me why Gilbert fled from Trianon."

"Do you wish me to confirm a suspicion, or to tell you something you do not know."

"Something I do not know."

"Well, I cannot tell you this. Have you not heard that he is dead?"

"Yes, I have, but----"

"Well, he is dead."

"Dead!" said Nicole, with an air of doubt. Then, with a sudden start, "Grant me one favor!" she cried.

"As many as you like."

"I saw you two hours ago; for it was you, was it not?"

"Certainly."

"You did not, then, try to disguise yourself?"

"Not at all."

"But I was stupid; I saw you, but I did not observe you."

"I do not understand."

"Do you know what I want?"

"No."

"Take off your mask."

"Here! impossible!"

"Oh, you cannot fear other people seeing you. Here, behind this column, you will be quite hidden. You fear that I should recognize you."

"You!"

"And that I should cry, 'It is you--it is Gilbert!'"

"What folly!"

"Take off your mask."

"Yes, on one condition--that you will take off yours, if I ask it."

"Agreed." The unknown took off his immediately.

Oliva looked earnestly at him, then sighed, and said:

"Alas! no, it is not Gilbert."

"And who am I?"

"Oh, I do not care, as you are not he."