dan's proportionate share of the assessment was forty-two
thousand francs. And he labored strenuously with his visitor to
convince him of the iniquity of the imposition; the city was differently
circumstanced from the other towns, it had had more than its share of
affliction, and should not be burdened with that new exaction. The pair
always came out of their discussions better friends than when they went
in; one delighted to have had an opportunity of hearing himself talk,
the other pleased with himself for having displayed a truly Parisian
urbanity.

One evening Gilberte came into the room, with her air of thoughtless
gayety. She paused at the threshold, affecting embarrassment. M. de
Gartlauben rose, and with much tact presently withdrew, but on repeating
his visit the following evening and finding Gilberte there again, he
settled himself in his usual seat in the chimney-corner. It was the
commencement of a succession of delightful evenings that they
passed together in the study of the master of the house, not in the
drawing-room--wherein lay a nice distinction. And at a later period
when, yielding to their guest's entreaties, the young woman consented to
play for him, she did not invite him to the salon, but entered the
room alone, leaving the communicating door open. In those bitter winter
evenings the old oaks of the Ardennes gave out a grateful warmth from
the depths of the great cavernous fireplace; there was a cup of
fragrant tea for them about ten o'clock; they laughed and chatted in the
comfortable, bright room. And it did not require extra powers of vision
to see that M. de Gartlauben was rapidly falling head over ears in love
with that sprightly young woman, who flirted with him as audaciously as
she had flirted in former days at Charleville with Captain Beaudoin's
friends. He began to pay increased attention to his person, displayed
a gallantry that verged on the fantastic, was raised to the pinnacle
of bliss by the most trifling favor, tormented by the one ever-present
anxiety not to appear a barbarian in her eyes, a rude soldier who did
not know the ways of women.

And thus it was that in the big, gloomy house in the Rue Maqua a twofold
life went on. While at meal-times Edmond, the wounded cherub with the
pretty face, lent a listening ear to Delaherche's unceasing chatter,
blushing if ever Gilberte asked him to pass her the salt, while at
evening M. de Gartlauben, seated in the study, with eyes upturned