She was astonished at his tone, and resumed: "It is though, a big thing
at your age."

He remarked: "All things are relative. I could have something bigger
now."

He had taken the case, and placing it on the mantel-shelf, looked for
some moments at the glittering star it contained. Then he closed it and
went to bed, shrugging his shoulders.

The _Journal Officiel_ of the first of January announced the nomination
of Monsieur Prosper George Du Roy, journalist, to the dignity of
chevalier of the Legion of Honor, for special services. The name was
written in two words, which gave George more pleasure than the
derivation itself.

An hour after having read this piece of news he received a note from
Madame Walter begging him to come and dine with her that evening with
his wife, to celebrate his new honors. He hesitated for a few moments,
and then throwing this note, written in ambiguous terms, into the fire,
said to Madeleine:

"We are going to dinner at the Walter's this evening."

She was astonished. "Why, I thought you never wanted to set foot in the
house again."

He only remarked: "I have changed my mind."

When they arrived Madame Walter was alone in the little Louis XVI.
boudoir she had adopted for the reception of personal friends. Dressed
in black, she had powdered her hair, which rendered her charming. She
had the air at a distance of an old woman, and close at hand, of a young
one, and when one looked at her well, of a pretty snare for the eyes.

"You are in mourning?" inquired Madeleine.

She replied, sadly: "Yes, and no. I have not lost any relative. But I
have reached the age when one wears the mourning of one's life. I wear
it to-day to inaugurate it. In future I shall wear it in my heart."

Du Roy thought: "Will this resolution hold good?"

The dinner was somewhat dull. Susan alone chattered incessantly. Rose
seemed preoccupied. The journalist was warmly congratulated. During the
evening they strolled chatting through the saloons and the conservatory.
As Du Roy was walking in the rear with Madame Walter, she checked him by
the arm.

"Listen," said she, in a low voice, "I will never speak to you of
anything again, never. But come and see me, George. It is impossible for
me to live without you, impossible. It is indescribable torture. I feel
you, I cherish you before my eyes, in my heart, all day and all night.
It is as though you had caused me to drink a poison which was eating me
away within.