It seems that I was ill a week; my wound threw me into a fever; then, I was delirious, and a scratch that should have amounted to nothing became a serious matter as a result of the events following my duel.

But I became convalescent at last, I was restored to health and happiness; for FrÉdÉrique was there, beside my bed, watching for my first glance. Tears fell from her eyes when I held out my hand to her.

"Saved!" she cried; "saved! Ah! Balloquet was right when he said that you were cured; but I dared not believe him!"

I saw two other persons stealing softly toward the bed; they were Mignonne and Ballangier. I shook their hands; I tried to thank them; but FrÉdÉrique begged me not to speak yet. I could smile at them, and that was something.

Madame Dauberny had learned from Balloquet how we had succeeded in rescuing Mignonne. He had not concealed from her that Monsieur Bouqueton was poor Annette's murderer. FrÉdÉrique had taken an oath never again to live under the same roof with that man. For my part, I did not believe that he would ever venture to reappear in society.

Health returns quickly when the heart is at peace. A few days later, I was walking on the boulevards, leaning on FrÉdÉrique's arm.

"My dear," she said, "Balloquet insists that the country air will complete your cure. To-morrow, if you feel strong enough to endure the journey, we will go to Fontenay and pass the rest of the season there."

"To Fontenay?" I said, looking her in the face. "Why, aren't you afraid of meeting people there whose presence annoys you?"

"Oh, no, no!" she said, fixing her lovely eyes on mine; "I am not afraid of anything now, for I am sure of your love."

The next day, we went to Fontenay, and FrÉdÉrique absolutely insisted upon taking Mignonne with us; she had become very fond of her; to be sure, Mignonne was much more amiable to Ballangier.

Mignonne lived in the pavilion which I had previously occupied, and I was under the same roof with FrÉdÉrique; a convalescent requires so much attention!

Armantine came to see us soon after our arrival. FrÉdÉrique received her with vastly more cordiality than before, notwithstanding which, Madame Sordeville came much less frequently; women have a tact which enables them to divine instantly when they have lost the game beyond recall.

I went to Paris and made inquiries about Ballangier; all that I learned was in his favor. I went to see him at his employer's, and invited him to dine at Fontenay on the next day but one. At first he declined what he called an honor; but I did not leave him until I had made him promise to come. The poor fellow asked nothing better, for I told him that he would see Mignonne.

I invited Balloquet to come into the country on the same day. On my return to Fontenay, I told FrÉdÉrique of the invitations I had ventured to extend without asking her permission; she closed my mouth by informing me that I need not ask her permission for anything. Then, after a moment's reflection, she said:

"I too propose to invite some people for that day. Will it annoy you if I have other company?"

"On the contrary, on that day it will give me great pleasure."

The next day, I went to Paris again; I had various purchases to make of gifts which I had in mind. As I passed through Rue du Petit-Carreau, I noticed a sponge shop. I thought of Rosette and stopped. Someone called me; it was my pretty brunette, enthroned at the desk.

"Are you afraid to come into my shop, monsieur?" asked Rosette, who was as lively and alluring as ever. "You were going by without deigning to say good-day to an old acquaintance."

And she began to sing:

"Still as merry as ever, Rosette?"

"Faith, yes! sponges ain't such a dismal trade as I thought; and then, my husband's such a good fellow! He's like putty in my hands!"

"You are happy, are you?"

"Yes, monsieur, very happy. Are you sorry for that?"

"On the contrary, I am very glad."

"And your lovely friend—does she still pretend to be nothing but a friend?"

"Faith, no! we are on better terms than that now; we were both mistaken in thinking that our feeling for each other was only friendship."

"Bah! I saw what was coming a long way off! It was a long time coming, that love!"

"Adieu, Rosette!"

"You will give me your custom, I hope? Send me your doctor À la rose too, with or without his gloves."

"I will send all my acquaintances to you."

"Oh! I haven't told you—on Sundays, I have my seven aunts in the shop, and people come in just from curiosity; we make a lot of money that day."

I left Rosette and returned to Fontenay. I showed FrÉdÉrique all that I had bought for Mignonne; I proposed that the young woman should wear a costume which would enhance the charms of her person, and I suggested that FrÉdÉrique should superintend her toilet. She approved all that I had done; I fancy that she also divined a great part of what I intended to do.

The reception day came in due time. The Ramonet brothers and several other neighbors arrived before dinner. Armantine was among those invited. I was very glad of it; I should have regretted her not being there on that day. Balloquet soon appeared, and then our old friend the Baron von Brunzbrack, who wrung my hand with great force, saying:

"I vould like to pe your frent no more, but I vas, all te same."

"Why should you not be my friend, monsieur le baron?"

"Because, ven she haf sent me a letter of invitation, Montame Dauberny, she haf told me dat she loafe you, but dat she offer to me her frentship."

"Well, baron, isn't it something to be her friend?"

"Ja, ja; but I vas right, ven I haf susbect dat you pe in loafe mit her."

"You had second-sight, baron."

Mignonne appeared at last, in a lovely costume, which became her to admiration, and which she seemed ashamed to wear. It was FrÉdÉrique herself who led her into the salon; she blushed when she came in, although FrÉdÉrique whispered to her:

"Don't be afraid, Mignonne; the men admire you and the women envy you; that is the most delightful part that one can play in society."

Madame Sordeville bit her lips when she saw Mignonne; that was a tacit homage to her charms.

Everybody had arrived, except Ballangier. He came at last, dressed without pretension, but very suitably for the occasion.

The whole company was assembled in the salon on the ground floor. I took Ballangier's hand and led him to Madame Dauberny, saying:

"Pray permit me, madame, to present my brother."

Everybody loudly expressed surprise, except FrÉdÉrique, who whispered to me:

"I knew it."

But the one upon whom my words produced the greatest effect was Ballangier himself. He stood as if rooted to the floor, trembling like a leaf; tears gathered in his eyes, and he said under his breath:

"O Charles! why tell it? there was no need."

"No need to acknowledge you as my brother?" I said, raising my voice. "Oh! be sure that this is a very happy moment to me! If I did for a long time conceal the ties that united us, do you suppose that it was because our positions were different, because you were only a workman, while I, more favored by fortune, chose to be an artist, a poet, a financier? No, my dear fellow; I forbade you to call me your brother, when, led astray by vicious men, you lived a life of idleness, drunkenness, and debauchery. Yes, I blushed to be the brother of a lazy vagabond! But now that you have reformed, now that you possess the esteem of your fellow workmen and your employers, I am proud to call you my brother; for one should always be proud to be related to an honest man, whatever rank he may hold in society."

Balloquet shook hands with me, saying:

"What you said was very fine, Rochebrune!"

The baron complimented me too, but I fancy that he did not understand.

I continued, addressing FrÉdÉrique:

"Yes, madame, Ballangier is my brother; not on the father's side—our names are not the same—but on the mother's side. My mother was a widow with one son when she married Monsieur Rochebrune, my father.—And now," I added, turning to Mignonne, "allow me to solicit your hand for my brother, who loves you sincerely and who will devote his life to making you happy."

Mignonne timidly gave her hand to Ballangier, saying to me with her customary gentleness:

"I shall be very happy to be your sister."

While all this was taking place, Armantine cut a peculiar figure. She left us early in the evening. The next day, she left Fontenay.

"How did you know that Ballangier was my brother?" I asked FrÉdÉrique, when we were alone.

"My dear, have you forgotten that day on the Champs-ÉlysÉes? The poor fellow was tipsy, and, while I was trying to quiet him, he involuntarily told me the secret, although I asked him no questions."

A few days after that festivity, FrÉdÉrique received a letter, which she read with evident emotion. Then she handed it to me, murmuring:

"See, my dear! you began the work, and Providence has done the rest."

The letter was from Zurich, Switzerland, and contained these words:

"MADAME:

"Monsieur FranÇois Dauberny, travelling for pleasure, met his death three days ago on one of our glaciers. The sad event occurred, it is said, while he was pursuing a young Swiss girl, who had refused to listen to him. The papers found upon him give the information that he was your husband."