ed of a morning, went out
in the afternoon, heedless of detectives, and came home to sleep. As in
days gone by, Maurice received Madame des Aubels twice or thrice a week
in the room in which they had seen the apparition.

All went very well until one morning Gilberte, having, the night before,
left her little velvet bag on the table in the blue room, came to find
it, and discovered Arcade stretched on the couch in his pyjamas, smoking
a cigarette, and dreaming of the conquest of Heaven. She gave a loud
scream.

"You, Monsieur! Had I thought to find you here, you may be quite sure I
should not ... I came to fetch my little bag, which is in the next
room. Allow me...." And she slipped past the angel, cautiously and
quickly, as if he were a brazier.

Madame des Aubels that morning, in her pale green tailor-made costume,
was deliciously attractive. Her tight skirt displayed her movements, and
her every step was one of those miracles of Nature which fill men's
hearts with amazement.

She reappeared, bag in hand.

"Once more--I ask your pardon.... I never dreamt that...."

Arcade begged her to sit down and to stay a moment.

"I never expected, Monsieur," said she, "that you would be doing the
honours of this flat. I knew how dearly Monsieur d'Esparvieu loved
you.... Nevertheless, I had no idea that...."

The sky had suddenly grown overcast. A brownish glare began to steal
into the room. Madame des Aubels told him she had walked for her
health's sake, but a storm was brewing, and she asked if a carriage
could be called for her.

Arcade flung himself at Gilberte's feet, took her in his arms as one
takes a precious piece of china, and murmured words which, being
meaningless in themselves, expressed desire.

She put her hands over his eyes and on his lips, and exclaimed, "I hate
you!"

And shaking with sobs, she asked for a drink of water. She was choking.
The angel went to her assistance. In this moment of extreme peril she
defended herself courageously. She kept saying: "No!... No!... I will
not love you. I should love you too well...." Nevertheless she
succumbed.

In the sweet familiarity which followed their mutual astonishment she
said to him:

"I have often asked after you. I knew that you were an assiduous
frequenter of the playhouses at Montmartre,--that you were often seen
with Mademoiselle Bouchotte, who, nevertheless, is not at all pretty. I
knew that you had become very smart, and that you were makin