"Why do you evince such astonishment, monsieur? My name is not unknown to you."

"After all," remarked the man, recovering from the amazement this announcement had caused, "it is not surprising that I did not recognise you either here or in Chili, madame, for the first time I saw you, four years ago, I could not distinguish your features; besides, the indignation I felt--"

"What do you mean, monsieur? Do you mean that you had seen me before our meeting in Chili?"

"Yes, madame."

"And where?"

"I scarcely dare to remind you."

"In whose house did you meet me, tell me, monsieur?"

"In my wife's house."

"Your wife's?"

"In the house of Madame de Luceval."

"What! You are--?"

"M. de Luceval."

Valentine d'Infreville stood as if petrified in her turn by this allusion which awakened so many painful memories; but, after a moment, she said, in tones of profound sadness:

"You speak the truth, monsieur. The first and only time we met at Madame de Luceval's it must have been as impossible for you to distinguish my features as it was for me to distinguish yours. Overcome with shame, I concealed my face, and, even now," she added, turning away her head as if to escape M. de Luceval's gaze, "I thank Heaven that it is dark."

"Believe me, madame, it is with deep regret that I remind you of a scene that was so distressing to you, and to myself as well, for, influenced by M. d'Infreville, I--"

But Valentine, interrupting him, inquired, with mingled curiosity, uneasiness, and tender interest:

"And Florence; where is she?"

"It was Florence that I was following just now."

"What! That woman was--"

"Madame de Luceval; yes."

"But why were you following her?"

"You are not aware, then--"

"Speak, monsieur, speak!"

"That my wife and I have separated," replied M. de Luceval, smothering a sigh.

"But where does Florence live?"

"On the Rue de Vaugirard."

"Great Heavens! How strange!" exclaimed Valentine, starting violently.

"What is the matter, madame?"

"Florence lives in the Rue de Vaugirard, you say. At what number?"

"Number 59."

"And Michel lives at Number 57!" exclaimed Valentine.

"Michel!" exclaimed M. de Luceval, in his turn. "Michel Renaud?"

"Yes, your cousin. He has a room on the fourth floor, at Number 57. I had just satisfied myself of that fact yesterday when I met you."

"And my wife lives on the same floor in the adjoining house," said M. de Luceval.

Then, feeling Valentine's arm tremble convulsively, he added:

"What is the matter, madame? Are you faint?"

"Pardon me, monsieur,--but it--it is the cold, I think,--that--that makes me feel so strangely. I can scarcely stand,--and my head seems to be going around and around."

"Have a little courage, madame. Let us try to reach that shop there at the corner of the quay."

"I'll try, monsieur," replied Valentine, faintly.

She did manage to drag herself to the store designated, which proved to be a grocery store. There was a woman behind the counter, the wife of the proprietor, and she took Madame d'Infreville into a room back of the store, and gave her every possible attention.

An hour afterwards, when daylight had come, a carriage was sent for, and M. de Luceval took Madame d'Infreville to her home.

CHAPTER XIII.

TRAVEL UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

The events of the morning had upset Madame d'Infreville so completely, and she felt so incapable of coherent thought, that she asked M. de Luceval to return that evening at eight o'clock, so she could have a full explanation with him; so at eight o'clock M. de Luceval sent up his card to Valentine, who had taken a suite of furnished rooms on the Chaussee d'Antin.

"How are you feeling this evening, madame?" he inquired, with great interest, when he was admitted into that lady's presence.

"Better, much better, monsieur, and I sincerely trust you will pardon my absurd weakness this morning."

"Was it not very natural, madame, after so many startling revelations and occurrences?"