noticed too that the attendants
treated the old gentleman with marked respect; this was, I fancy,
however, owing to the old gentleman's air, for not one of them could
tell me who he was.

"I left him in the hospital, more puzzled than ever as to who could be
the occupant of your little chamber. He seemed to me to have seen
better days; and as for your lady of the slipper, it was so long
before I saw any female with Monsieur Very, that I began to think she
had no existence, save in your lively imagination."

Here the abbe sipped his wine.

"You saw her at length, then?" said I.

"_Attendez._ One evening I caught a glimpse of the tall gentleman
going into the court of his hotel, with a lady closely muffled in
black upon his arm."

"And she had a pretty foot?"

"Ah, _mon ami_, it was too dark to see."

"And did you see her again?"

"_Attendez._ (The abbe sipped his wine.) For a month I saw neither
monsieur nor mademoiselle. I passed the court early and late; I even
went up to St. Louis, but the sick man was gone. The whole matter had
nearly dropped from my mind, when one night--it was late, and very
dark--the little bell at the wicket rung, and presently there was a
loud rap at my door. It was the concierge of the next court; a man he
said was dying, and a priest was wanted.

"I hurried over, and followed the concierge up, I know not how many
stairs, into a miserable little chamber. There was a yellow placard at
the window--"

I filled the abbe's glass and my own.

"Poor Monsieur Very," continued the abbe, "was on the couch before me,
dying! The concierge had left the chamber, but there was still a third
person present, who scarce seemed to belong to such a place."

The abbe saw my earnestness, and provokingly sipped his wine.

"This is very good wine, monsieur," said the abbe.

"Was she pretty?" said I.

"Beautiful," said the abbe, earnestly.

I filled the abbe's glass. The garcon had taken away the _fricandeau_,
and served us with _poulet roti_.

"Had she a light dress, and long, wavy ringlets?" said I.

"She was beautiful," said the abbe, "and her expression was so sweet,
so gentle, so sad--ah, _mon ami_--_ah, pauvre_--_pauvre fille!_"

The abbe had laid down his fork; he held his napkin to his face.

"And so poor Very died?" said I.

"It was a sad sight," said the abbe.

"And he confessed to you?"

"I was too late, _mon ami_; he murmured a word or two in my ear I
could not understand. He