I reached Paris about seven in the evening. As I entered my house, the first person I saw was Ballangier, in a neat brown frock-coat and a round hat; his attire was noticeable for a sort of coquetry which indicated that the desire to please was still his first thought.

He grasped my hand, crying:

"Ah! here you are at last! I am so glad to see you! I have so much to tell you about all that has happened in the six weeks since you went away! For it is six weeks since you left Paris."

"Is Mignonne in my room now?"

"No; but she sometimes passes the whole day there and a large part of the evening. She enjoys being in your room."

"Come up with me and tell me all about it."

Ballangier accompanied me to my apartment; I got rid of Pomponne by telling him to get his dinner wherever he chose; and when I was alone with my friend, I asked how his love affairs were progressing.

"In the first place, my dear Charles, when I came here, three days after you went away, I was very much surprised to learn that you were in the country; I was going away, sadly enough, when the concierge said to me: 'There's somebody upstairs, and my orders are to let you go up.' I didn't wait to be informed twice; something told me that I should find Mignonne here. Sure enough, she was here; she was working, but she was very sad—indeed, I believe she was crying. She received me coldly. I sat a long while looking at her, without saying a word, and she didn't speak, either. At last I began to talk about you, of all that I owed you, of my affection for you. Then she listened to me and answered. On my next visit, I talked again about you; I saw that that was the only way of making her talk a little. I asked her if she knew where you were; she said, with a sigh, that she knew perfectly well, but, as you had made a secret of it, she didn't think that she ought to tell. I continued to come from time to time; and when I couldn't call during the day, on account of my work, I made up for it by waiting for her in the evening at the corner of the street. I watched for her to come away from your house; I didn't dare to speak to her, for fear of displeasing her, but I followed her at a distance till she was safely at home; and as she lives on Rue MÉnilmontant, my pleasure lasted some time. You will see, Charles, what an excellent idea it was of mine to act as her escort. For several days I had noticed a middle-aged man prowling about the street, a well-dressed man, but very fat; and I fancied that he too was on the watch for Mignonne; for he walked very near her—when he could keep up with her, that is, for she quickened her pace at his approach.—'Parbleu!' I said to myself, about a week ago; 'I must find out about this matter. I'll just keep out of sight and see what this fellow's intentions are.' The weather happened to be bad that night, and there were few people in the street. I waited; my man soon appeared, and he waited too. After a few minutes, Mignonne came out of the house. Then I saw my man, who was lurking in the darkest part of the street, speak to Mignonne, put his arm round her waist, insult her, in short, in spite of her entreaties and her shrieks. I tell you, his punishment wasn't long in coming! In three seconds I was on the fellow; I had grabbed him by the throat, thrown him into the gutter, and hammered him with feet and hands. I believe that I should be punching him yet, if Mignonne hadn't begged me to let him alone. You can imagine that I offered her my arm then to take her home, and she didn't refuse it. The poor child was so frightened! She thanked me a hundred times more than I deserved; and since then, I'm not sure, but it seems to me that she's more friendly with me."

"Well done, Ballangier! that incident ought surely to have helped on your prospects. You have rendered Mignonne a great service, and she is grateful."

"A great thing that was! to punch an impertinent blackguard's head! Anybody would do as much for a poor little woman who's being insulted—unless he has no blood in his veins! How is it with you, Charles, are you all right? Have you left the country for good?"

"I don't know; that depends. Look you, my friend, I too am in love, and I don't know yet whether my love is returned."

"Oho! Do you mean it? you are in love, too? Oh! she'll love you, I'll answer for that; it is impossible for anyone not to love you!"

"God grant it! Meanwhile, I will admit that I haven't dined; and as it's the fashion in our day for lovers to dine, because dieting would not advance their affairs, I propose to regale myself. Have you dined?"

"Oh! long ago. I came here to wait for Mignonne, but she must have gone away earlier than usual."

I was in a hurry to dine, because I intended to go immediately after to Madame Dauberny's; as she had returned only a few hours ahead of me, it was impossible that she should not be at home.

Ballangier went out with me; he would have left me when we reached the street, but I asked him to walk with me as far as the boulevard; and on the way I learned with pleasure that his conduct was still all that could be desired, that his love did not cause him to neglect his work, and that he had become one of his employer's head workmen.

We had almost reached the boulevard, when, as we passed a brightly lighted shop, Ballangier started back, touched my arm, and said, pointing to a man who had just passed us:

"There he is! That's the man! He didn't see me, but I recognized him."

"Who is he?"

"The man I thrashed so soundly for taking liberties with Mignonne."

I looked at the person whom Ballangier pointed out to me; his figure impressed me, it reminded me of someone. I ran back and overtook him, then turned about and faced him. I was not mistaken: it was Monsieur Dauberny.

I do not know whether he recognized me. He must have been surprised by the way I stared at him; but he simply frowned and went his way, quickening his pace. I let him go, and returned to Ballangier, who had stopped and was waiting for me a few steps away.

"Well, Charles, you wanted to see that man; you succeeded, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I recognized him perfectly."

"Recognized? The deuce! do you know the old reprobate?"

"Ah! if he were no worse than that! But he's an infernal villain! You did well, I assure you, to deliver Mignonne from his persecutions. Poor girl! If you knew of what that man is capable!"

"Really?"

"Continue to watch. The sight of that man makes me tremble for her! But the day of reckoning must come some time!"

"Explain yourself! Do you want me to run after the fellow and arrest him?"

"No, no! that's not the way I must deal with him. But we will watch him, and an opportunity will soon come—with that man they must come frequently—and then——"

"Then we will annihilate him, won't we?"

"Au revoir, Ballangier! I must dine. But, I repeat, watch over Mignonne more carefully than ever."

"Oh! you have no need to urge that on me."

I entered a restaurant, dined in hot haste, and went to Madame Dauberny's house.

"Madame is not in," said the concierge.

"You mean that she is not receiving, for she must be at home; did she not return from the country to-day?"

"Yes, monsieur; madame returned to-day. But I assure you that she went out this evening, not very long ago; and I believe I heard someone say that she was going to the OpÉra."

"To the OpÉra?"

"Yes, monsieur; Mamzelle AdÈle told us that her mistress was going to the OpÉra."

I was determined to find her. If I allowed that evening to pass without having an explanation with her, she would be quite capable of leaving Paris on the morrow; she would escape me again, and for a long time perhaps. I decided to go to the OpÉra. FrÉdÉrique was not one of those women who are afraid to go to the theatre alone; more than once I had heard her say:

"Why do I need a companion? When the fancy takes me to go to the theatre, I send and hire a box, and I go. In my box, I am alone, I am at home, and no one has the right to come there to annoy me."

I arrived at the OpÉra; I went into the orchestra and stood at the entrance, from which I examined one side of the auditorium. I did not see FrÉdÉrique. I walked to the other side of the orchestra; there was a large audience, and several men were already standing at that entrance. I slipped in behind them and began my inspection. That time my search was short: I saw her, alone, in a baignoire, leaning back a little. Was she listening attentively to the performance, or was she absorbed by her thoughts? Before joining her, I gave myself the pleasure of gazing at her for several minutes.

Suddenly one of the men in front of me began to speak, so loudly that I did not lose a single word; indeed, I was speedily convinced that he intended that I should hear.

"I say, do you see that lady yonder, in one of the baignoires—all alone in her box?"

"In a pearl-gray dress, with black hair, and long cork-screw curls?"

"Exactly. What do you think of her?"

"Not bad—a Spanish type of face; but a little pale."

"Perhaps that may be grief at losing me."

"Oho! is she——?"

"Yes, my dear fellow, she's an old flame of mine; she's still a——"

I did not allow Saint-Bergame to complete his sentence; if I had not recognized his voice, I should have guessed his identity from his language. I grasped his arm, and said to him in an undertone:

"Monsieur, the man who has been a woman's lover and tells of it is a conceited ass; the man who insults her in public is a coward!"

Saint-Bergame turned, eyed me from head to foot with an insolent air, and rejoined in a loud voice:

"Ah! you constitute yourself that lady's champion, do you? To be sure, it's your turn now."

I could not contain my wrath; I struck him in the face. Saint-Bergame tried to rush at me; but our quarrel had attracted general attention; someone threw himself between us, and I noticed then for the first time that Saint-Bergame's companion was Fouvenard.

We left the hall; several persons tried to adjust our difficulty, but I satisfied them that their mediation was useless, and that we knew perfectly well how the affair must end. I joined Saint-Bergame, who, with Fouvenard, awaited me in a corner of the vestibule. The latter stared at me in amazement, murmuring:

"What! is it you? What is this quarrel about?"

"There are no explanations to be given, messieurs. At what hour to-morrow?"

"At nine o'clock—no, ten o'clock, at Porte Maillot," said Saint-Bergame, who was trembling with anger. "I don't like to rise early. I shall have time enough to kill you."

"Very good, monsieur! Your weapon?"

"The sword."

"That is all."

"I shall have monsieur and another second with me."

"It seems to me that monsieur would suffice."

"You evidently do not fight often, monsieur, and are not familiar with the customs of duelling."

I did not consider it necessary to reply to this new insult.

"Very good; I will have two witnesses," I said, and walked away.

I returned to the hall and was going toward Madame Dauberny's box, when a lady rushed up to me. It was FrÉdÉrique. She took my arm and led me away, saying:

"Come! let us go! let us go!"

I followed her from the building. She almost made me run; she squeezed my arm convulsively; I spoke to her, and she did not reply; but she wept, and hid her face in her handkerchief. At last we arrived at her house. Then she threw herself into a chair and her sobs burst forth anew. I knelt at her feet; I took her hand and begged her to tell me the cause of her grief.

"The cause? the cause? You ask me that when you are to fight to-morrow—for me?"

"I am to fight?"

"Oh! no falsehoods! I recognized you at the entrance to the orchestra. You struck Saint-Bergame."

"Yes, for he insulted you."

She took my head in her hands and kissed me again and again, crying:

"Ah! that was well done! Thanks, my friend! I expected nothing less from you."

"Well! in that case, why these tears, this grief, when I am going to punish a man who had insulted you once before? I found this evening an opportunity that I have been looking for ever since our drive in the Bois de Boulogne."

"Oh! of course, this duel would be an everyday affair, if—— Mon Dieu! it is my fault! always my fault! Why did I leave the country? why did I come back to Paris? All this would not have happened, if I had stayed at Fontenay. But you, my friend—why did you come back—why did you follow me? Why didn't you stay with that woman whom you love—and who has no idea of spurning you now?"

"You are all astray, FrÉdÉrique: it was to stay with the woman I love that I returned to Paris; it was to be with her that I followed you; for the woman I love—not with friendship, but with love—the most sincere, the most passionate love—with a love that will end only with my life—is you—you! Yes! though you banish me from your presence again, I can no longer content myself with the title of friend, beneath which I have with difficulty concealed all that I felt for you!"

"He loves me! he loves me!" murmured FrÉdÉrique, gazing at me with an expression of the purest ecstasy in her lovely eyes. Then, giving way to her emotion, lacking strength to say more, she fell into my arms. I will not try to describe my bliss. One cannot describe what one feels so keenly.

When we had recovered the faculty of speech, FrÉdÉrique said to me, with her head resting on my shoulder:

"The least that I can do is to reveal all my secrets to you now; there must be no more secrets between us. I felt drawn toward you the first moment that I knew you. There are, I have no question, certain bonds of sympathy which we cannot understand, but which draw us toward those whom we are destined to love. But at that time you were engrossed by Armantine. Remember that I refused to allow you to call on me. I had no idea that you would fall in love with me, but I felt that your presence would be dangerous to me. I saw you again at Armantine's, depressed and disheartened by her coquetry; I determined to console you by offering you my friendship; I was acting in perfect good faith then, I proposed to be your friend and nothing more—when that kiss that you gave me while I was pretending to doze, that kiss which set my whole being on fire, proved to me that I had other sentiments for you than those of a friend. But you loved Armantine; I did not choose to be simply a passing caprice to you, so it was necessary to break off our relations altogether. And that is what I did, without ceasing for an instant to think of you. Later, I learned what Monsieur Sordeville was, and I lost no time in urging you not to go again to his house; you did not follow my advice, being still in love with Armantine.—Then came the scene on the Champs-ÉlysÉes; I had had nothing to do with bringing it about; but I am too honest not to confess that her treatment of you gave me some little hope. We met again, and again I offered you my friendship; but I had much difficulty in concealing the true state of my heart. Your liaison with Rosette made me unhappy, but I soon realized that it was not love. When I saw that other attractive and interesting young woman in your rooms, fresh torments assailed me, and I was very happy when you consented to go away from Mignonne. Finally, at Fontenay my secret was at my tongue's end every day; for I fancied that your eyes expressed something different from friendship. Then we fell in with Armantine again, and she recommenced her coquetries with you. Ah! that was too much! I no longer had the strength to carry on the struggle; I came away, fully determined to part from you forever. But you would not have it so; it is I whom you love. Ah! my friend, my bliss at this moment more than makes up for all the torture I have endured!"

For more than an hour we abandoned ourselves to the ecstatic joy of two hearts which for the first time have declared their mutual love. But suddenly FrÉdÉrique's brow darkened, and she looked sadly into my face, crying:

"Mon Dieu! my happiness has made me forget. It is not a dream—you are to fight to-morrow!"

"Yes, I am to fight to-morrow, at ten o'clock. But that fact cannot prevent my being the happiest of men to-night."

"Is there no way of enjoying perfect happiness on earth? I was so happy, so happy! And you are to fight to-morrow!"

"I shall be the victor, and I shall have avenged you! My happiness will be even greater—if that is possible!"

"Oh! yes, yes, we must hope so! With what weapons do you fight?"

"Swords."

"Ah! Saint-Bergame chose that weapon, of course. I have often heard him boast of his fine swordsmanship."

"I struck him, so he had the choice of weapons."

"True; but are you a good fencer?"

"I know how to defend myself."

"We will see about that."

She left me and went into her dressing-room, whence she soon returned with a pair of buttoned foils and handed one to me.

"Let us see, my friend, if you really know how to defend yourself," she said.

"What! can you handle a sword?"

"Very well, according to Grisier, who was my teacher. Didn't I tell you that I received a man's education? Come, monsieur, on guard, and look out for yourself!"

I took the foil. I thought, at first, that all I needed to do was to parry carelessly a thrust or two. But FrÉdÉrique soon undeceived me; she was sharp and persistent in attack, quick in parrying. Twice I was touched, and she exclaimed:

"Ah! so that's how you defend yourself, is it? Why, poor fellow, you will let him kill you! Attack—attack, I say!"

These words recalled me to myself; my self-esteem was aroused. We continued for some time, and at last I touched her. She dropped her foil and embraced me, saying:

"That's all right! that will do! But you must be careful; you must not be taken unawares. Whom shall you have with you to-morrow?"

"You remind me. I shall get Balloquet. I can rely upon him, and I must go this evening and leave a letter for him. But I must have another second. Those fellows insist on having three on a side. Whom in the devil shall I get?"

"Don't cudgel your brains, my friend. Your other second will be at your rooms at nine o'clock to-morrow."

"Do you know of someone?"

"Yes."

"Ah! I'll wager that you are thinking of Baron von Brunzbrack?"

"Perhaps so. However, I'll be responsible for your second. Now, write to Balloquet at once. Do you know the long-bearded individual who was with Saint-Bergame?"

"Oh! yes, I know him! And if I could fight with him too, it would be an additional gratification."

"Why, what has he done to you?"

"Nothing to me. But I told you, did I not, that Mignonne was vilely insulted and then abandoned by her seducer? Well, it was that dastard, that low-lived scoundrel, that Fouvenard, in short, who was with Saint-Bergame at the OpÉra this evening."

"Go, my friend, and carry the note to Balloquet; make sure of him, and I will answer for the other second. Then go home and rest. Until to-morrow!"

"You will come to my rooms to learn the result of the duel?"

"Yes, you will see me. Until to-morrow!"

I pressed her to my heart. I was proud of her courage. She continued to smile as she looked after me. I found Balloquet's abode, not without difficulty, gave my letter to the concierge, and went home to bed. She loved me! I was so happy, that I had not a thought to spare for my duel.