hat for a few minutes he could
find nothing to say. Then he asked: "She spoke of me--in pleasant
terms?"

"Yes."

"You are sure?"

"Of course I am. I am not dreaming."

"And then?"

"And then--as I was coming to Paris I thought that I would please
you by coming to tell you the good news."

"Why, yes--why, yes--"

Bondel appeared to hesitate; then, after a short pause, he added: "I even
had an idea."

"What is it?"

"To take you back home with me to dinner."

Tancret, who was naturally prudent, seemed a little worried by this
proposition, and he asked: "Oh! really--is it possible? Are we not
exposing ourselves to--to--a scene?"

"No, no, indeed!"

"Because, you know, Madame Bendel bears malice for a long time."

"Yes, but I can assure you that she no longer bears you any
ill--will. I am even convinced that it will be a great pleasure for
her to see you thus, unexpectedly."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Well, then! let us go along. I am delighted. You see, this
misunderstanding was very unpleasant for me."

They set out together toward the Saint-Lazare station, arm in arm. They
made the trip in silence. Both seemed absorbed in deep meditation. Seated
in the car, one opposite the other, they looked at each other without
speaking, each observing that the other was pale.

Then they left the train and once more linked arms as if to unite against
some common danger. After a walk of a few minutes they stopped, a little
out of breath, before Bondel's house. Bondel ushered his friend into the
parlor, called the servant, and asked: "Is madame at home?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Please ask her to come down at once."

They dropped into two armchairs and waited. Both were filled with the
same longing to escape before the appearance of the much-feared person.

A well-known, heavy tread could be heard descending the stairs. A hand
moved the knob, and both men watched the brass handle turn. Then the door
opened wide, and Madame Bondel stopped and looked to see who was there
before she entered. She looked, blushed, trembled, retreated a step, then
stood motionless, her cheeks aflame and her hands resting against the
sides of the door frame.

Tancret, as pale as if about to faint, had arisen, letting fall his hat,
which rolled along the floor. He stammered out: "Mon Dieu--madame--it is
I--I thought--I ventured--I was so sorry--"

As she did not answer, he continued: "Will you forgive me?"

Then, quickly, carri