t seem to reassure the young girl. She thought
to herself, "What then has this Noel done for Albert?" But she made no
remark.

"I will send for him," continued M. de Commarin; "he is now with
Albert's mother, who brought him up, and who is now on her deathbed."

"Albert's mother!"

"Yes, my child. Albert will explain to you what may perhaps seem to you
an enigma. Now time presses. But I think--"

He stopped suddenly. He thought, that, instead of sending for Noel at
Madame Gerdy's, he might go there himself. He would thus see Valerie!
and he had longed to see her again so much!

It was one of those actions which the heart urges, but which one does
not dare risk, because a thousand subtle reasons and interests are
against it.

One wishes, desires, and even longs for it; and yet one struggles,
combats, and resists. But, if an opportunity occurs, one is only too
happy to seize it; then one has an excuse with which to silence one's
conscience.

In thus yielding to the impulse of one's feelings, one can say: "It was
not I who willed it, it was fate."

"It will be quicker, perhaps," observed the count, "to go to Noel."

"Let us start then, sir."

"I hardly know though, my child," said the old gentleman, hesitating,
"whether I may, whether I ought to take you with me. Propriety--"

"Ah, sir, propriety has nothing to do with it!" replied Claire
impetuously. "With you, and for his sake, I can go anywhere. Is it not
indispensable that I should give some explanations? Only send word to my
grandmother by Schmidt, who will come back here and await my return. I
am ready, sir."

"Very well, then," said the count.

Then, ringing the bell violently, he called to the servant, "My
carriage."

In descending the steps, he insisted upon Claire's taking his arm.
The gallant and elegant politeness of the friend of the Count d'Artois
reappeared.

"You have taken twenty years from my age," he said; "it is but right
that I should devote to you the youth you have restored to me."

As soon as Claire had entered the carriage, he said to the footman: "Rue
St. Lazare, quick!"

Whenever the count said "quick," on entering his carriage, the
pedestrians had to get out of the way. But the coachman was a skillful
driver, and arrived without accident.

Aided by the concierge's directions, the count and the young girl went
towards Madame Gerdy's apartments. The count mounted slowly, holding
tightly to the balustrade, stopping at every