ld be seen under the glare
of the gas-lamps, which shook in the wind in the midst of a haze. The
crowd gazed at them mute with fear.

In the intervals between the cavalry-charges, squads of policemen
arrived on the scene to keep back the people in the streets.

But on the steps of Tortoni, a man--Dussardier--who could be
distinguished at a distance by his great height, remained standing as
motionless as a caryatide.

One of the police-officers, marching at the head of his men, with his
three-cornered hat drawn over his eyes, threatened him with his sword.

The other thereupon took one step forward, and shouted:

"Long live the Republic!"

The next moment he fell on his back with his arms crossed.

A yell of horror arose from the crowd. The police-officer, with a look
of command, made a circle around him; and Frederick, gazing at him in
open-mouthed astonishment, recognised Senecal.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: When a woman suddenly came in.]

CHAPTER XIX.

A BITTER-SWEET REUNION.

He travelled.

He realised the melancholy associated with packet-boats, the chill one
feels on waking up under tents, the dizzy effect of landscapes and
ruins, and the bitterness of ruptured sympathies.

He returned home.

He mingled in society, and he conceived attachments to other women. But
the constant recollection of his first love made these appear insipid;
and besides the vehemence of desire, the bloom of the sensation had
vanished. In like manner, his intellectual ambitions had grown weaker.
Years passed; and he was forced to support the burthen of a life in
which his mind was unoccupied and his heart devoid of energy.

Towards the end of March, 1867, just as it was getting dark, one
evening, he was sitting all alone in his study, when a woman suddenly
came in.

"Madame Arnoux!"

"Frederick!"

She caught hold of his hands, and drew him gently towards the window,
and, as she gazed into his face, she kept repeating:

"'Tis he! Yes, indeed--'tis he!"

In the growing shadows of the twilight, he could see only her eyes under
the black lace veil that hid her face.

When she had laid down on the edge of the mantelpiece a little
pocket-book bound in garnet velvet, she seated herself in front of him,
and they both remained silent, unable to utter a word, smiling at one
another.

At last he asked her a number of questions about herself and her
husband.

They had gone to live in a remote part of Britta