quis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to which
he supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprised
at this frank declaration.

"And yet," he said, "you are indebted to him for the princely
magnificence that surrounds you here."

"Of course."

"He being gone, as you say, will you be able to keep up your style
of living?"

Half raising herself from her seat,

"I haven't the slightest idea of doing so," she exclaimed. "Never
in the whole world have I had such a stupid time as for the last
five months that I have spent in this gilded cage. What a bore,
my beloved brethren! I am yawning still at the mere thought of the
number of times I have yawned in it."

M. de Tregars' gesture of surprise was the more natural, that his
surprise was immense.

"You are tired being here?" he said.

"To death."

"And you have only been here five months?"

"Dear me; yes! and by the merest chance, too, you'll see. One day
at the beginning of last December, I was coming from--but no matter
where I was coming from. At any rate, I hadn't a cent in my pocket,
and nothing but an old calico dress on my back; and I was going
along, not in the best of humor, as you may imagine, when I feel
that some one is following me. Without looking around, and from
the corner of my eye, I look over my shoulder, and I see a
respectable-looking old gentleman, wearing a long frock-coat."

"M. Vincent?"

"In his own natural person, and who was walking, walking. I quietly
begin to walk slower; and, as soon as we come to a place where there
was hardly any one, he comes up alongside of me."

Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme.
Zelie Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily,
--a frank and sonorous laughter.

"Then," she resumed, "he begins at once to explain that I remind
him of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just had
the misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself the
happiest of men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insure
me a brilliant position."

"You see! That rascally Vincent!" said M. de Tregars, just to be
saying something.

Mme. Zelie shook her head.

"You know him," she resumed. "He is not young; he is not handsome;
he is not funny. I did not fancy him one bit; and, if I had only
known where to find shelter for the night, I'd soon have sent him
to the old Nick,--him and his brilliant position. But, not