obes,
and hearing his sad tale of poor Clerie, I should forget entirely to
ask about the little shoe, or the tall gentleman of the attic.
Nevertheless I did, as I went out, throw a glance up to the window of
the court--alas! there were more panes broken, the placard was gone,
the veil was gone--there was nothing but a flimsy web which a bold
spider had stretched across one of the comers. I felt sure that the
last six months had brought its changes to other houses, as well as
the house of Clerie.

I thought I would just step round to the conciergerie of the
neighboring hotel, and ask after Monsieur Very; but before I had got
fairly into the court I turned directly about, and walked away--I was
afraid to ask about Monsieur Very. I felt saddened by the tale I had
already heard; it had given, as such things will, a soft tinge of
sadness to all my own thoughts, and fancies, and hopes. Everybody
knows there are times in life when things joyful seem harsh; and there
are times, too--Heaven knows!--when a saddened soul shrinks, fearful
as a child, from any added sadness. God be blessed that they pass,
like clouds over the bright sky of His Providence, and are gone!

I was afraid to ask that day about Monsieur Very; so I walked
home--one while perplexing myself with strange conjectures; and
another while the current of my thought would disengage itself from
these hindering eddies, and go glowing quick, and strong, and
sad--pushed along by the memory of poor Clerie's fate.

I knew the abbe would tell me all next day--and so he did.

We dined together in the Palais Royal, at a snug
restaurant up-stairs, near the Theatre Francais. We look a little
cabinet to ourselves, and I ordered up a bottle of Chambertin.

[Footnote A: Fresh Gleanings, pp. 132, 133.]

The soup was gone, a nice dish of _filet de veau_, _aux epinards_, was
before us, and we had drank each a couple of glasses, before I
ventured to ask one word about Monsieur Very.

"_Ah, mon cher,_" said the abbe--at the same time laying down his
fork--"_il est mort!_"

"And mademoiselle--"

"_Attendez_," said the abbe, "and you shall hear it all."

The abbe resumed his fork; I filled up the glasses, and he commenced:

"You will remember, _mon cher_, having described to me the person of
the tall pale gentleman who was our neighbor. The description was a
very good one, for I recognized him the moment I saw him.

"It was a week or more after you had left for the south,