ot know what my rights were. This time I did
not see them; I only heard of it from others. That is over, and we will
not say any more about it; but if I catch them again--by G--,
if I catch them again, I will make them lose all taste for such nonsense,
Maitre Cacheux, as sure as my name is Severin."

HIS AVENGER

When M. Antoine Leuillet married the widow, Madame Mathilde Souris, he
had already been in love with her for ten years.

M. Souris has been his friend, his old college chum. Leuillet was very
much attached to him, but thought he was somewhat of a simpleton. He
would often remark: "That poor Souris who will never set the world on
fire."

When Souris married Miss Mathilde Duval, Leuillet was astonished and
somewhat annoyed, as he was slightly devoted to her, himself. She was the
daughter of a neighbor, a former proprietor of a draper's establishment
who had retired with quite a small fortune. She married Souris for his
money.

Then Leuillet thought he would start a flirtation with his friend's wife.
He was a good-looking man, intelligent and also rich. He thought it would
be all plain sailing, but he was mistaken. Then he really began to admire
her with an admiration that his friendship for the husband obliged him to
keep within the bounds of discretion, making him timid and embarrassed.
Madame Souris believing that his presumptions had received a wholesome
check now treated him as a good friend. This went on for nine years.

One morning a messenger brought Leuillet a distracted note from the poor
woman. Souris had just died suddenly from the rupture of an aneurism. He
was dreadfully shocked, for they were just the same age. But almost
immediately a feeling of profound joy, of intense relief, of emancipation
filled his being. Madame Souris was free.

He managed, however, to assume the sad, sympathetic expression that was
appropriate, waited the required time, observed all social appearances.
At the end of fifteen months he married the widow.

This was considered to be a very natural, and even a generous action. It
was the act of a good friend of an upright man.

He was happy at last, perfectly happy.

They lived in the most cordial intimacy, having understood and
appreciated each other from the first. They had no secrets from one
another and even confided to each other their most secret thoughts.
Leuillet loved his wife now with a quiet and trustful affection; he loved
her as a tender, devoted c