ppeared on
the staircase of the hall. That some one was none other than Florent
Chapron. Chance decreed that the latter should send for a carriage in
which to go to lunch, and that the carriage should be late. At the sound
of wheels stopping at the door, he looked out of one of the windows
of his apartment, which faced the street. He saw Gorka alight. Such a
visit, at such an hour, with the persons who were in the atelier, seemed
to him so dangerous that he ran downstairs immediately. He took up
his hat and his cane, to justify his presence in the hall by the very
natural excuse that he was going out. He reached the middle of the
staircase just in time to stop the servant, who had decided to "go and
see," and, bowing to Boleslas with more formality than usual:

"My brother-in-law is not there, Monsieur," said he; and he added,
turning to the footman, in order to dispose of him in case an
altercation should arise between the importunate visitor and himself,
"Nero, fetch me a handkerchief from my room. I have forgotten mine."

"That order could not be meant for me, Monsieur," insisted Boleslas.
"Monsieur Maitland has made an appointment with me, with Madame Steno,
in order to show us Alba's portrait."

"It is no order," replied Florent. "I repeat to you that my
brother-in-law has gone out. The studio is closed, and it is impossible
for me to undertake to open it to show you the picture, since I have not
the key. As for Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, they have not been here
for several days; the sittings have been interrupted."

"What is still more extraordinary, Monsieur," replied the other, "is
that I saw them with my own eyes, five minutes ago, enter this house and
I, too, saw their carriage drive away.".... He felt his anger increase
and direct itself altogether against the watch-dog so suddenly raised
upon the threshold of his rival's house.

Florent, on his part, had begun to lose patience. He had within him the
violent irritability of the negro blood, which he did not acknowledge,
but which slightly tinted his complexion. The manner of Madame Steno's
former lover seemed to him so outrageous that he replied very dryly, as
he opened the door, in order to oblige the caller to leave:

"You are mistaken,--Monsieur, that is all."

"You are aware, Monsieur," replied Boleslas, "of the fact that you just
addressed me in a tone which is not the one which I have a right to
expect from you.... When one charges one's self