On the day after the duel, Cherami, concealing under his coat the sword which had been loaned to him the day before, betook himself to the count's abode and asked the concierge how his master was. The concierge replied, with a profound sigh:

"Would you believe, monsieur, that, in spite of his years—for although monsieur le comte dresses like a young man, it's easy to see that he isn't one; his valet tells me he's past sixty—well, in spite of his years, he fought a duel yesterday."

"A man fights a duel when the occasion arises; there's no prescribed term for that."

"No, monsieur; no, a man doesn't fight—and with swords, above all—when his wrist is no longer firm; and it seems that Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre's opponent was a great, tall rascal—a professional—one of those fellows who pass their time fighting. A fine profession!"

Cherami pushed the sword still farther under his coat, stared at the concierge as if he would swallow him, and said in a sharp tone:

"Your reflections tire me; I am going up to the count's apartments."

"But, monsieur, you can't go up; monsieur le comte is very badly wounded, so it seems. He is forbidden to read or talk."

"I don't mean to speak to him, but to his valet, who isn't so much of an ass as you, I trust."

And Cherami rapidly ascended the stairs, opened the door of the reception-room by turning the knob, and found there the valet, who knew him. He handed him the sword, saying:

"Here, my friend, is a sword which your master loaned to the person with whom he fought yesterday, and which that person requested me to return to him, and at the same time to inquire as to his condition. Is the count's wound dangerous?"

"No, monsieur. The surgeon said that it wasn't mortal, and that monsieur would recover."

"Ah! so much the better! I am very glad to hear that."

"But it may take a long time; he'll have to be very careful. Monsieur has lost a great deal of blood; he is very weak, and, between ourselves, he's no longer young."

"Between ourselves, and between all the rest of the world, too."

"He is forbidden to speak or to receive visits to-day."

"And I have no intention of asking to be admitted; I simply wanted to know how he was; he will get well, that's the main point. What does it matter whether it's a long recovery or not? The count is rich; he can coddle himself in bed as long as it's necessary."

"True, monsieur; but, still, this wound comes at a very bad time; for—I can safely tell you; it's no longer a secret—my master's on the point of being married."

"Married!"

"Yes, it's a fact; and to a young lady, a very pretty one."

"Well, my boy, to marry, at your master's age, is much more dangerous than a sword-thrust—especially when the bride is young and pretty—aggravating circumstances!"

"Ha! ha! I fancy monsieur is right."

"Good-morning! I will call again to inquire."

"And now," said Cherami to himself, "if I knew where Gustave is, I would tell him that his rival is on his back. I think I will go to his house to inquire. He has separate apartments; and, at a pinch, if the concierge can't tell me anything, I will brave once more the uncle's winning countenance."

Gustave's concierge knew that he was not in Paris, but he knew no more than that. Cherami decided to make his way once more into the banker's private office; he was always sure to find him at his desk in the morning.

Monsieur Grandcourt frowned when he recognized his visitor. But Cherami was even more carefully dressed than on the occasion of his last visit. With the thousand francs he had received from Gustave, and by virtue of his newly-adopted system of economy, Beau Arthur had reached the point where he was no longer an ex-beau, and had almost recovered his former air of distinction.

He saluted the banker with the ease of manner which was natural to him, but to which his dress imparted additional charm. Monsieur Grandcourt replied with a cool nod. As he did not leave his armchair, Cherami took a seat and began by making himself comfortable. The two men looked at each other for several minutes without speaking: the banker retaining his scowling expression, Cherami smiling as if he were at the ThÉÂtre du Palais-Royal, listening to Arnal.

"How are you this morning, my dear Monsieur Grandcourt?" began Cherami, lolling back in his chair.

"Very well, I thank you, monsieur. Is it to inquire for my health that you come to my office to-day?"

"Oh! if I should say yes, you wouldn't believe me."

"True. But I remember that my nephew told me that you wished to find employment. You appear, however, monsieur, to be more fortunately placed than you were when I first saw you?"

"It is a fact, monsieur, that my condition has improved somewhat. But that does not interfere with my seeking a—suitable place. I am beginning to tire of doing nothing. I am really desirous to have something to occupy my time."

"That desire comes a little late!"

"You know the proverb: better late than never. And then, after all, I am only forty-eight; I am not an old man. You are fully as old as that, and yet you work!"

"But I have always worked, monsieur; it's a habit with me, a necessity. I didn't have to make a study of it—a study which is often repellent when one begins it late in life."

"Have you any place to offer me, monsieur?"

"No, I have not."

"Well, then, why do you ask me all these questions? I do not imagine that it is your purpose to make sport of me."

"Is it yours to pick a quarrel with me?"

"No, no! sapristi! I am not picking a quarrel with you—Gustave's uncle, and he my best friend! Oh! if you weren't his uncle, I don't say that—but you are his uncle.—Let us come to the point; I came to ask you where your nephew is at this moment."

"My nephew is travelling: he is in one place to-day, in another to-morrow."

"Oh! I see that we are going to have the same old song over again! You will not give me his address?—But if I want to write to him, to tell him something which will give him great pleasure, which will make him happy?"

"Tell me, and I'll write it to him."

"That isn't the same thing. But, no matter, I will tell you. You know, I suppose, that his passion, whom he thought he was surely going to marry this time, has thrown him over again, in favor of a very rich old count?"

"I know all that, monsieur."

"Good! but what you don't know is that I don't propose that my friend shall be played with with impunity. That is why I hunted up this Comte de la BÉriniÈre; I insulted him; we fought a duel, and he is now in his bed with a famous sword-thrust in his right side."

Monsieur Grandcourt jumped from his chair and struck his desk a violent blow, crying:

"Is it possible? You have done that?"

"As I have the honor to tell you. Do you wish to embrace me?"

"On the contrary, monsieur, I am much more inclined to throw you out of the window!"

"Indeed! well, as we are on the ground floor, if that will give you pleasure——"

"Why, monsieur, this is a horrible thing that you've done! And you call yourself Gustave's friend! You seem to be trying to wreck his life. Can't you see that this Fanny is an infernal coquette, who cares for nothing but money and pleasure, and who never had the slightest feeling of love for my nephew?"

"As far as that goes, I am entirely of your opinion."

"Very well! do you think, then, that marriage with such a woman would make Gustave happy?"

"Dame! since he adores her——"

"Why, monsieur, do I need to tell you that love doesn't last forever? Besides, what purpose does that sentiment serve in a household when it's not reciprocated? Gustave is kind-hearted, sensitive, affectionate—much too affectionate. What he needs is a sweet, modest, loving helpmeet."

"That is true!" murmured Cherami; "and I know one of that sort."

"And you would have him marry a woman who has spurned him twice? Why, to miss being this Fanny's husband was the most fortunate thing that could happen to him! All his true friends ought to congratulate him on it. And you, monsieur, you set about removing the obstacle which had risen between my nephew and that widow! You fight with the man she preferred to Gustave! Ah! monsieur, cease to call yourself his friend; for his bitterest enemy would not have acted otherwise!"

Cherami paced the floor of the office with long strides, and bit his lips, muttering:

"Sacrebleu! that is all true. There is good sense in what you say. On the impulse of the moment, I didn't reflect. I saw but one thing to do—and that was to prevent the little widow's making a fool of Gustave."

"Oh! monsieur, she would do it much more effectively if he should marry her."

"After all, I didn't kill the count—a sword-thrust in the side is nothing; he will get well; the doctor said so."

"That is possible; but who can say that this duel will not change his plans, his ideas? At the count's age, a wound, an illness, sometimes ages a man ten years; and then love takes flight, and with it all thought of marriage."

"Oh! the count was dead in love, and when a fire gets started in an old house it burns faster than a new one."

"Do you still consider, monsieur, that it's very important to tell my nephew of your fine exploit? Have you any wish to see him rush to that wretched Fanny's side again?"

"You have changed my ideas entirely, dear uncle. I'm a hot-headed creature; but I am not pig-headed. When I feel that I've done a foolish thing, I admit it."

"That's something."

"But, I tell you again, the count's wound is not dangerous; he will recover."

"I trust so, monsieur; and above all things that he will marry this Fanny."

"In that case, you will no longer feel inclined to throw me out of the window?"

"In that case, I will forgive you for this last escapade."

"Adieu, dear uncle! Look you: you are hard with me; but in my heart I don't lay it up against you, because I see that you love your nephew."

"Ah! have you just discovered that?"

"I shall take pains to keep you informed as to the health of our venerable lover. As soon as he is on his legs again, I will come to tell you. And then, if he should try to back out of marrying the little widow, why, par la sambleu! he will have to draw his sword again."

"I beg you, monsieur, don't interfere any more; that's the only way to have the thing end satisfactorily."

"You haven't much confidence in me, dear uncle; but I will compel you to do me justice."—And Cherami took leave of the banker, saying to himself: "That devil of a man is right. I made an ass of myself; but I'll go to work differently now."