is about to marry another."

He was afraid he was going mad. A sharp pain shot across his forehead
just above the right eyebrow. In the old days he had felt the same pain
when he had overworked himself in preparing for his examinations at the
Polytechnic School. With a bitter smile he asked himself if one of the
aching vessels in his brain was about to burst?

The sudden stoppage of the cab freed him from this torture. The hotel
porter opened the door. Pierre stepped out mechanically. Without speaking
a word he followed a waiter, who showed him to a room on the second
floor. Left alone, he sat down. This room, with its commonplace
furniture, chilled him. He saw in it a type of his future life: lonely
and desolate. Formerly, when he used to come to Paris, he stayed with
Madame Desvarennes, where he had the comforts of home, and every one
looked on him affectionately.

Here, at the hotel, orders were obeyed with politeness at so much a day.
Would it always be thus in future?

This painful impression dissipated his weakness as by enchantment. He so
bitterly regretted the sweets of the past, that he resolved to struggle
to secure them for the future. He dressed himself quickly, and removed
all the traces of his journey; then, his mind made up, he jumped into a
cab, and drove to Madame Desvarennes's. All indecision had left him. His
fears now seemed contemptible. He must defend himself. It was a question
of his happiness.

At the Place de la Concorde a carriage passed his cab. He recognized the
livery of Madame Desvarennes's coachman and leant forward. The mistress
did not see him. He was about to stop the cab and tell his driver to
follow her carriage when a sudden thought decided him to go on. It was
Micheline he wanted to see. His future destiny depended on her. Madame
Desvarennes had made him clearly understand that by calling for his help
in her fatal letter. He went on his way, and in a few minutes arrived at
the mansion in the Rue Saint-Dominique.

Micheline and Jeanne were still in the garden, seated in the same place
on the lawn. Cayrol had joined Serge. Both, profiting by the lovely
morning, were enjoying the society of their beloved ones. A quick step on
the gravel walk attracted their attention. In the sunlight a young man,
whom neither Jeanne nor Micheline recognized, was advancing. When about
two yards distant from the group he slowly raised his hat.

Seeing the constrained and astonished manner of the y