On the third day my stratagem succeeded. My old friend wrote me a note,
telling me that she had seen me speaking to her husband in his shop. She
begged me to come again at a certain time, and to tell her husband that I
had known her under the name of Mdlle. Blasin in England, Spa, Leipzig,
and Vienna, as a seller of lace. She ended her note with these words:

"I have no doubt that my husband will finally introduce you to me as his
wife."

I followed her advice, and the good man asked me if I had ever known a
young lace seller of the name of Mdlle. Blasin, of Montpellier.

"Yes, I remember her well enough--a delightful and most respectable young
woman; but I did not know she came from Montpellier. She was very pretty
and very sensible, and I expect she did a good business. I have seen her
in several European cities, and the last time at Vienna, where I was able
to be of some slight service to her. Her admirable behaviour won her the
esteem of all the ladies with whom she came in contact. In England I met
her at the house of a duchess."

"Do you think you would recognize her if you saw her again?"

"By Jove! I should think so! But is she at Montpellier? If so, tell her
that the Chevalier de Seingalt is here."

"Sir, you shall speak to her yourself, if you will do me the honour to
follow me."

My heart leapt, but I restrained myself. The worthy apothecary went
through the shop, climbed a stair, and, opening a door on the first
floor, said to me,--

"There she is."

"What, mademoiselle! You here? I am delighted to see you."

"This is not a young lady, sir, 'tis my dear wife; but I hope that will
not hinder you from embracing her."

"I have never had such an honour; but I will avail myself of your
permission with pleasure. Then you have got married at Montpellier. I
congratulate both of you, and wish you all health and happiness. Tell me,
did you have a pleasant journey from Vienna to Lyons?"

Madame Blasin (for so I must continue to designate her) answered my
question according to her fancy, and found me as good an actor as she was
an actress.

We were very glad to see each other again, but the apothecary was
delighted at the great respect with which I treated his wife.

For a whole hour we carried on a conversation of a perfectly imaginary
character, and with all the simplicity of perfect truth.

She asked me if I thought of spending the carnival at Montpellier, and
seemed quite mortified when I said tha