faithful lover. In vain now
did the other sing. Frantz no longer heard her or saw her. He was in that
poor room, beside the great armchair, on the little low chair on which he
had sat so often awaiting the father's return. Yes, there, and there
only, was his salvation. He must take refuge in that child's love, throw
himself at her feet, say to her, "Take me, save me!" And who knows? She
loved him so dearly. Perhaps she would save him, would cure him of his
guilty passion.

"Where are you going?" asked Risler, seeing that his brother rose
hurriedly as soon as the last flourish was at an end.

"I am going back. It is late."

"What? You are not going to sleep here? Why your room is ready for you."

"It is all ready," added Sidonie, with a meaning glance.

He refused resolutely. His presence in Paris was necessary for the
fulfilment of certain very important commissions intrusted to him by the
Company. They continued their efforts to detain him when he was in the
vestibule, when he was crossing the garden in the moonlight and running
to the station, amid all the divers noises of Asnieres.

When he had gone, Risler went up to his room, leaving Sidonie and Madame
Dobson at the windows of the salon. The music from the neighboring Casino
reached their ears, with the "Yo-ho!" of the boatmen and the footsteps of
the dancers like a rhythmical, muffled drumming on the tambourine.

"There's a kill-joy for you!" observed Madame Dobson.

"Oh, I have checkmated him," replied Sidonie; "only I must be careful. I
shall be closely watched now. He is so jealous. I am going to write to
Cazaboni not to come again for some time, and you must tell Georges
to-morrow morning to go to Savigny for a fortnight."

CHAPTER XV

POOR LITTLE MAM'ZELLE ZIZI

Oh, how happy Desiree was!

Frantz came every day and sat at her feet on the little low chair, as in
the good old days, and he no longer came to talk of Sidonie.

As soon as she began to work in the morning, she would see the door open
softly. "Good morning, Mam'zelle Zizi." He always called her now by the
name she had borne as a child; and if you could know how prettily he said
it: "Good morning, Mam'zelle Zizi."

In the evening they waited for "the father" together, and while she
worked he made her shudder with the story of his adventures.

"What is the matter with you? You're not the same as you used to be,"
Mamma Delobelle would say, surprised to see her in such high spirits