y good. Then you would like me, I suppose, to be very anxious about
you, and urge you to withdraw?"

"Precisely!" answered the banker, much pleased. "Ah, Carmen, how well
you understand me. Had you chosen, we two would have governed France!"

"Not I!" answered Carmen, abruptly. "We are companions, not accomplices.
I do not understand you, and I do not propose to aid you in your
infamy."

At this word Laisangy started, and thus confirmed the suspicions of
Carmen, who was watching him.

He took her hand, and she withdrew it quickly. He had obtained what he
desired, and was now ready to depart.

"What is he planning?" said Carmen to herself. "Is it really some
financial operation, which, of course, I care nothing about, or is
it----?"

Goutran's name rose to her lips. All day she watched him, but saw
nothing to justify her in her belief, and yet she knew that her woman's
instinct had not played her false. Over and over again she was tempted
to retract her promise, for the idea of this fete was intolerable to
her. She thought of Goutran, and remembered that she might save him.

The evening came, and Carmen's maid could hardly believe it was she who
replied:

"What dress, did you say? I don't care in the least!"

Nevertheless, when Carmen appeared in the salons there was an audible
murmur of admiration. In her white dress, with a few flowers in her
beautiful hair, Carmen had never been more beautiful. She moved slowly
through the rooms, looking for Goutran, who was not there, as we know.

Little did Carmen care for these men and women, who were the tools and
slaves of the man of December. Laisangy was radiant, however. Carmen
shivered whenever she looked at him. It seemed to her that he was in a
state of unusual excitement.

The orchestra was playing delightfully, and lacqueys were announcing the
first names of the empire--counts, and barons, and princes. Suddenly a
new name was heard:

"Mohammed-Ben-Omar!"

And a magnificent personage, wearing the Legion of Honor on his white
bournous, entered the room. Every one turned to look at him. He was a
magnificent looking Arab. With a gravity that was truly oriental, and
with his face half concealed in the folds of his mantle, his brown hands
folded on his breast, Mohammed-Ben-Omar advanced.

Laisangy went forward to meet him. In fact, he could hardly believe in
his good fortune. Mohammed-Ben-Omar belonged to that class of Algerians
who, listening to the counsel o