ut up to restore order among the tumbled curls, and eyes
expressive of gratitude; with the glow of satisfaction which, like a
sunset, warms the least details of the countenance--everything makes
such a moment a mine of memories.

Any man who dares look back on the early errors of his life may,
perhaps, recall some such reminiscences, and understand, though not
excuse, the follies of Hulot and Crevel. Women are so well aware of
their power at such a moment, that they find in it what may be called
the aftermath of the meeting.

"Come, come; after two years' practice, you do not yet know how to lace
a woman's stays! You are too much a Pole!--There, it is ten o'clock, my
Wenceslas!" said Valerie, laughing at him.

At this very moment, a mischievous waiting-woman, by inserting a knife,
pushed up the hook of the double doors that formed the whole security
of Adam and Eve. She hastily pulled the door open--for the servants
of these dens have little time to waste--and discovered one of the
bewitching _tableaux de genre_ which Gavarni has so often shown at the
Salon.

"In here, madame," said the girl; and Cydalise went in, followed by
Montes.

"But there is some one here.--Excuse me, madame," said the country girl,
in alarm.

"What?--Why! it is Valerie!" cried Montes, violently slamming the door.

Madame Marneffe, too genuinely agitated to dissemble her feelings,
dropped on to the chair by the fireplace. Two tears rose to her eyes,
and at once dried away. She looked at Montes, saw the girl, and burst
into a cackle of forced laughter. The dignity of the insulted woman
redeemed the scantiness of her attire; she walked close up to the
Brazilian, and looked at him so defiantly that her eyes glittered like
knives.

"So that," said she, standing face to face with the Baron, and pointing
to Cydalise--"that is the other side of your fidelity? You, who have
made me promises that might convert a disbeliever in love! You, for
whom I have done so much--have even committed crimes!--You are right,
monsieur, I am not to compare with a child of her age and of such
beauty!

"I know what you are going to say," she went on, looking at Wenceslas,
whose undress was proof too clear to be denied. "This is my concern. If
I could love you after such gross treachery--for you have spied upon me,
you have paid for every step up these stairs, paid the mistress of the
house, and the servant, perhaps even Reine--a noble deed!--If I had any
remnan