When he learned that his nephew wished to leave Paris again, Monsieur Grandcourt did not conceal the regret which he felt at the thought of another separation; but when he realized that Gustave still loved Madame MonlÉard, he placed no obstacle in the way of his departure, and it was decided that the young man should go to Germany.

"During your absence," said the banker, "an individual came here to inquire for you—I say an individual, for I don't know how else to describe the man, whose whole aspect was more than questionable. His name, I believe, is Arthur Cherami, and he claims to be an intimate friend of yours, because you paid for his dinner the day Mademoiselle Fanny was married."

"Ah! yes, I know whom you mean, uncle; I have seen him; I met him a couple of days ago."

"I trust, my dear Gustave, that you will not affect that gentleman's society. You don't know, perhaps, what he did? He fought a duel with Monsieur MonlÉard, after making an insulting remark to his wife."

"I know it, uncle. But, in the first place, that day, or rather that night, the poor devil was a little tipsy—he lost his head—he thought he was avenging me; after all, it only goes to prove that he's a brave fellow."

"My dear boy, the gentry who stop public conveyances on the highroad are generally brave fellows, too, but that doesn't prevent their being brigands."

"Oh! uncle, do you mean that you think that that poor Arthur——"

"I don't say that he's a thief; but I don't advise you to make a companion of him."

"He's no fool; he has had a good education, and he knows the world."

"He is all the more reprehensible for having allowed himself to sink so low! For he seems to me to be always in search of a dinner. However, as you are going away again for some time, I trust that your relations with the fellow will be entirely broken off."

Gustave hastened the preparations for his journey; but, being obliged to wait for certain letters which his uncle desired to give him for his correspondents, he was not ready to leave Paris until the following Thursday evening. He desired to see Adolphine once more before he went; she had always been so kind and affectionate to him, that it seemed to him that it would be ungracious to leave Paris again without bidding her adieu. But the fear of another meeting with Fanny held him back. He suddenly remembered, however, that that was the day of the grand affair to which Madame MonlÉard had invited him.

"Surely," he said to himself, "Fanny has too much to do at home to-day, to find time to go to her sister's. So that I can call on Adolphine with no fear of meeting her whose presence causes me more pain than pleasure now."

Adolphine was at home, engaged in preparations for the ball; for although she anticipated no pleasure at her sister's magnificent function, she could not do otherwise than go. She was looking with an indifferent air at a lovely ball gown which her father had given her, and which would have delighted most young women of her age beyond measure.

"But," thought Adolphine, "what do I care whether people think me pretty? There will be nobody at the ball whom I care to please. Ah! if he were going! But he was wise to refuse; he could not, ought not to go."

Madeleine noiselessly opened the door, and said:

"Mamzelle, here's the young man who came the other day—the one who's so good-looking, and seems so sad-like."

"Monsieur Gustave?"

"Yes, that Monsieur Gustave, who was so scared by your sister the other time, that he went right away."

"Mon Dieu! Is father at home?"

"Yes, mamzelle; but he's in his room with Monsieur Batonnin, who came just a minute ago. They'll probably have a lot to talk about, and you know your father hardly ever comes into your room. And, to-day, he knows that you're getting your dress ready."

"Show Gustave in, quickly."

Trimmings, flowers, ribbons, all were thrown aside; Adolphine was so happy at the thought of seeing Gustave. In a moment, he entered the room, ran to her side, and pressed her hand affectionately.

"Will you forgive me for disturbing you again, dear Adolphine?" he asked.

"Will I forgive you! Why, I am very glad to see you; for, when you went away the other day, you said that you wouldn't come again, and that grieved me much."

"That was because I was so unprepared to meet your sister. I didn't expect to see her, and I confess that it affected me so deeply that it revived all my suffering."

"Oh! I saw that; but it was by the merest chance that you met her; she comes here very seldom."

"No matter; I would not have run the risk of a second meeting; but I remembered that this is the day of her grand ball, and I thought that she would have no leisure to come here this morning."

"But I should have said that Fanny was glad to see you."

"Oh! that makes no difference, my good little sister; her glances, her voice, her smile, all made my heart ache! You can't imagine what agony it is to be with a person you love, and who doesn't love you!"

"Yes, yes, I understand."

"Especially when you have imagined for some time that you possessed that person's heart; when you have flattered yourself with the prospect of passing your life with her! To see that woman again, when she belongs to another, is the most frightful torture. Fanny smiled at me, she asked me to call on her. But I would have preferred a cold, harsh greeting a hundred times over; I would have liked her to avoid my presence as I meant to avoid hers; for then I would have thought: 'I am not utterly indifferent to her.'—However, that won't happen again, for I am going away, and I have come to say good-bye."

"You are going away again! Mon Dieu! you have only just returned!"

"Ah! I should have done better not to return so soon. Living in Paris weighs on me, it recalls the past too vividly."

"And where are you going now?"

"To Germany, Austria—as far away as possible!"

"For a long time?"

"Oh! yes, for I don't propose to return until I am thoroughly cured of my unhappy passion."

Adolphine put her handkerchief to her eyes.

"But it's not our fault," she stammered,—"if my sister doesn't love you—and yet, because she doesn't, we—must lose a friend."

"Dear Adolphine, such woe-begone friends as I am are hardly worth regretting."

"Do you think so? But suppose I like them so?"

"When I return, I shall probably find you married, too."

"No, no! I shall not be married, I—I am sure of it."

"What do you know about it? There are certain to be plenty of aspirants to your hand."

"I refused two, not long ago. They were both rich, but I am not like my sister; I want to love my husband!"

"Do you think, pray, that Fanny doesn't love hers?"

"Mon Dieu! I know nothing about it. I don't know what I am saying; I am so disappointed!"

At that moment, the door opened. Monsieur Gerbault appeared, with Monsieur Batonnin, who entered first.

"Pray excuse me, mademoiselle," he began; "I come to engage you for the first contra-dance that——"

The soft-spoken gentleman stopped abruptly, seeing a young man seated beside Adolphine; he rolled his eyes in the direction of the father, adding:

"Ah! mademoiselle has a visitor; we disturb her."

Monsieur Gerbault was no less surprised than he at finding a man in his daughter's room, and her with her eyes full of tears. But he soon recognized Gustave, who bowed respectfully to him and said:

"Forgive me, monsieur, for presuming to call upon your daughter; but I came to bid her good-bye, and I hoped to have the honor of paying my respects to you as well before leaving the house."

"Ah! is it you, Monsieur Gustave? I thought that you were in Spain?"

"I returned a week ago, monsieur; and to-night I start for Germany."

"Why, what's the matter, Adolphine? you look as if you had been crying. But I cannot conceive what reason you can have to be unhappy."

Monsieur Batonnin thought it advisable to intervene.

"It always saddens one to say good-bye to one's friends," he murmured. "Life is so short! When we part, we are never sure of meeting again."

"What do you say, monsieur?" cried Adolphine, with a pathetic glance at Gustave.

"I had no purpose to grieve you, mademoiselle, believe me," Batonnin made haste to reply; "on the contrary, I came to solicit the honor of dancing the first contra-dance with you; for you surely have not forgotten that madame your sister gives a ball this evening?"

"No, monsieur."

"I realize," said Gustave, "that I came at a very inopportune moment, and interrupted mademoiselle in her preparations for that festivity, diverting her thoughts to a poor traveller who desired to carry away with him a friendly word or two. Pray forgive my intrusion, mademoiselle. I am an unlucky mortal, for my sadness constantly casts a shadow on the happiness of other people. But I am sure that you will forgive me, in memory of our former friendship.—Monsieur Gerbault, will you allow me to shake hands with you?"

The melancholy and at the same time dignified manner in which Gustave spoke banished the last trace of sternness from Monsieur Gerbault's face; he took the young man's hand and pressed it warmly, saying to him:

"Come, come, my friend, drive away the gloomy thoughts that assail you. At your age, the future is boundless. Don't submit to be crushed by fruitless regrets; you may still be happy, and you will be some day, I am sure. A pleasant journey to you! Study the manners and customs of the countries you visit, and I am convinced that you will return in an infinitely more cheerful frame of mind."

"Thanks for your kind wishes, monsieur; allow me to bid you adieu."

Gustave pressed Adolphine's hand, bowed to the visitor, whom he did not know, and left the room. While the young woman escorted him to the door, Monsieur Batonnin observed to Monsieur Gerbault:

"That young man is in love with Mademoiselle Adolphine, I see, and you have refused him her hand. Doubtless he isn't a suitable match for her; but still it is very good-natured of you to give him encouragement for the future."

"My dear Monsieur Batonnin, you are all off the track. It was not Adolphine, but her sister Fanny, with whom Gustave was in love, and he flattered himself that he was going to marry her, when Auguste MonlÉard came forward. Faith! he had better luck. He offered her a position which any young woman would have liked, and she accepted him. It was a very hard blow to this young Gustave."

"I understand. Then it was he who fought a duel with your son-in-law, and gave him the wound which made him carry his arm in a sling so long?"

"You are wrong again. It was not Gustave who fought with Monsieur MonlÉard, for Gustave was a long way from Paris when the duel took place."

"Whom did your son-in-law fight with, then?"

"Faith! you ask me too much!"

Adolphine's return put an end to Monsieur Batonnin's questions. "Mademoiselle," he said, in his most silvery tones, "I beg your pardon if I repeat the same thing again and again, like a parrot, but I should be glad to know if I may obtain from you the favor of the first contra-dance. I present my request thus early, because I am sure that you will be beset, overwhelmed with invitations this evening, and it will be very difficult to obtain a word with you."

Adolphine seemed to make an effort to throw off her preoccupation, and replied:

"But I am not sure yet, monsieur, whether I shall dance at my sister's this evening, for I have a very severe headache, and, unless it gets better, I shall cut a very sad figure in a dance."

"Don't pay any attention to her," said Monsieur Gerbault. "These girls are forever having headaches, which take them all of a sudden when they have the least thought of such a thing; but, have no fear, there never was a headache that didn't surrender at the signal given by the orchestra at a ball. So, as you've delivered your invitation, you are certain of being her first partner. And now, let us leave mademoiselle to her preparations. Come, my dear Monsieur Batonnin."

The soft-spoken gentleman bestowed a superb smile upon Adolphine, accompanied by a respectful bow.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "I rest my hopes upon what your father says, too fortunate if you crown my desires; and if my invitation, albeit a little premature perhaps, and rather unseasonable——"

"Come, Monsieur Batonnin, come."

The maker of compliments, being led away by Monsieur Gerbault, was compelled to complete his sentence in the reception-room; and Adolphine, left alone at last, cursed Monsieur Batonnin for coming, with his invitation, to interrupt her interview with Gustave.

"A ball, indeed!" she murmured, angrily tossing her furbelows about; "I must needs dance this evening, when my heart is full, when I would like to weep undisturbed! Ah! if these are the pleasures which society has to offer, they who are debarred from them are the most fortunate!"