trace left of what we saw this morning. He was
too wrought up about his work. Going out did him good; and yet he met
with a rather unpleasant surprise at Rastignac's."

"What was it?" asked Madame de l'Estorade, anxiously.

"It seems that the affairs of your friend Sallenauve are going wrong."

"Thanks for the commission!" said Monsieur de l'Estorade, returning the
letter to his wife. "I shall take very good care not to guarantee his
conduct in any respect."

"Have you heard anything disagreeable about him?" asked Madame de
l'Estorade, endeavoring to give a tone of indifference to her question.

"Yes; Rastignac has just told me of letters received from Arcis, where
they have made the most compromising discoveries."

"Well, what did I tell you?" cried Madame de l'Estorade.

"How do you mean? What _did_ you tell me?"

"I told you some time ago that the acquaintance was one that had better
be allowed to die out. I remember using that very expression."

"But _I_ didn't draw him here."

"Well, you can't say that I did; and just now, before I knew of these
discoveries you speak of, I was telling Madame de Camps of another
reason why it was desirable to put an end to the acquaintance."

"Yes," said Madame de Camps, "your wife and I were just discussing, as
you came in, the sort of frenzy Nais has taken for what she calls her
'preserver.' We agreed in thinking there might be future danger in that
direction."

"From all points of view," said Monsieur de l'Estorade, "it is an
unwholesome acquaintance."

"It seems to me," said Monsieur de Camps, who was not in the secret of
these opinions, "that you go too fast. They may have made what they call
compromising discoveries about Monsieur de Sallenauve; but what is
the value of those discoveries? Don't hang him till a verdict has been
rendered."

"My husband can do as he likes," said Madame de l'Estorade; "but as for
me, I shall drop the acquaintance at once. I want my friends to be, like
Caesar's wife, beyond suspicion."

"Unfortunately," said Monsieur de l'Estorade, "there's that unfortunate
obligation--"

"But, my dear," cried Madame de l'Estorade, "if a galley-slave saved my
life, must I admit him to my salon?"

"Oh! dearest," exclaimed Madame de Camps, "you are going too far."

"At any rate," said the peer of France, "there is no need to make an
open rupture; let things end quietly between us. The dear man is now in
foreign parts, and who knows if he means