used by the best bootmakers of that time, in
strong contrast with the glistening leather. The color of that seam had
tinged his thoughts during a previous conversation with himself, as
he sought to explain the presence of a mysterious pair of hessians in
Coralie's fender. He remembered now that he had seen the name of "Gay,
Rue de la Michodiere," printed in black letters on the soft white kid
lining.

"You have a handsome pair of boots, sir," he said.

"Like everything else about him," said Coralie.

"I should be very glad of your bootmaker's address."

"Oh, how like the Rue des Bourdonnais to ask for a tradesman's address,"
cried Coralie. "Do _you_ intend to patronize a young man's bootmaker? A
nice young man you would make! Do keep to your own top-boots; they are
the kind for a steady-going man with a wife and family and a mistress."

"Indeed, if you would take off one of your boots, sir, I should be very
much obliged," persisted Camusot.

"I could not get it on again without a button-hook," said Lucien,
flushing up.

"Berenice will fetch you one; we can do with some here," jeered Camusot.

"Papa Camusot!" said Coralie, looking at him with cruel scorn, "have the
courage of your pitiful baseness. Come, speak out! You think that this
gentleman's boots are very like mine, do you not?--I forbid you to take
off your boots," she added, turning to Lucien.--"Yes, M. Camusot. Yes,
you saw some boots lying about in the fender here the other day,
and that is the identical pair, and this gentleman was hiding in my
dressing-room at the time, waiting for them; and he had passed the night
here. That was what you were thinking, _hein_? Think so; I would rather
you did. It is the simple truth. I am deceiving you. And if I am? I do
it to please myself."

She sat down. There was no anger in her face, no embarrassment; she
looked from Camusot to Lucien. The two men avoided each other's eyes.

"I will believe nothing that you do not wish me to believe," said
Camusot. "Don't play with me, Coralie; I was wrong----"

"I am either a shameless baggage that has taken a sudden fancy; or a
poor, unhappy girl who feels what love really is for the first time, the
love that all women long for. And whichever way it is, you must leave
me or take me as I am," she said, with a queenly gesture that crushed
Camusot.

"Is it really true?" he asked, seeing from their faces that this was no
jest, yet begging to be deceived.

"I love mademoise