o Madeleine's new husband--that
was all--nothing was changed; even his associates sometimes called him
Forestier, and it made Du Roy furious at the dead. He grew to hate the
very name; it was to him almost an insult. Even at home the obsession
continued; the entire house reminded him of Charles.

One evening Du Roy, who liked sweetmeats, asked:

"Why do we never have sweets?"

His wife replied pleasantly: "I never think of it, because Charles
disliked them."

He interrupted her with an impatient gesture: "Do you know I am getting
tired of Charles? It is Charles here, Charles there, Charles liked
this, Charles liked that. Since Charles is dead, let him rest in peace."

Madeleine ascribed her husband's burst of ill humor to puerile
jealousy, but she was flattered and did not reply. On retiring, haunted
by the same thought, he asked:

"Did Charles wear a cotton nightcap to keep the draft out of his ears?"

She replied pleasantly: "No, a lace one!"

Georges shrugged his shoulders and said scornfully: "What a bird!"

From that time Georges never called Charles anything but "poor
Charles," with an accent of infinite pity. One evening as Du Roy was
smoking a cigarette at his window, toward the end of June, the heat
awoke in him a desire for fresh air. He asked:

"My little Made, would you like to go as far as the Bois?"

"Yes, certainly."

They took an open carriage and drove to the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne.
It was a sultry evening; a host of cabs lined the drive, one behind
another. When the carriage containing Georges and Madeleine reached the
turning which led to the fortifications, they kissed one another and
Madeleine stammered in confusion: "We are as childish as we were at
Rouen."

The road they followed was not so much frequented, a gentle breeze
rustled the leaves of the trees, the sky was studded with brilliant
stars and Georges murmured, as he pressed his wife to his breast: "Oh,
my little Made."

She said to him: "Do you remember how gloomy the forest at Canteleu
was? It seemed to me that it was full of horrible beasts and that it
was interminable, while here it is charming. One can feel the caressing
breezes, and I know that Sevres is on the other side."

He replied: "In our forests there are nothing but stags, foxes,
roebucks, and boars, with here and there a forester's house." He paused
for a moment and then asked: "Did you come here in the evening with
Charles occasionally?"

She replied: