Goutran and Esperance went out together from the little hÔtel in the avenue Montaugne. Slowly and without talking they walked on side by side. The moon had gone down; it was one of those soft, starry nights which are so delicious. The Champs ElysÉes was deserted.

Suddenly Goutran exclaimed, "It is best to go on with it, I am sure!"

Esperance looked at his friend in surprise. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Goutran laughed. "I was only thinking aloud," he said. "The fact is, I am attempting to decide upon an important question. To marry, or not to marry. What do you say?"

"I know so little of life that I can give no advice," answered Esperance, "and yet," he continued, "it seems to me that no happiness can be so great as to spend your life in the companionship of one who will share your joys and your sorrows."

"Then you advise me to marry?"

"If the woman is worthy of you."

Goutran had begun this conversation in a gay, familiar tone, but the gravity of Esperance influenced him, and he continued more seriously, "I wished to consult you, because I knew you to be a man who weighed such matters seriously. You noticed a young lady, to-night—but what is the matter?"

Esperance had started. "It is nothing, my foot slipped. And this young lady?"

"The pretty blonde is the one I mean."

"Oh!" answered Esperance, with a sigh of relief, "I congratulate you, most warmly. You love her?"

"I hardly know. I am attracted by her, I admire her beauty, the brilliancy of her eyes, her figure and her manner. Is this love?"

"I have no experience in such matters, you know."

"But you have instinct, which is worth ten times as much as experience. Carmen is an adorable creature, and when I am with her I can think of no one else. Twenty times this evening the decisive words were on my lips."

"And why did you not speak?"

"Ah! that is as much of a mystery to me as to you. A strange reluctance kept me back—almost a presentiment of evil. Do you know what I mean?"

"I understand that. I have felt the same thing at times."

"But to return to Carmen. Whenever I think of asking her to marry me, I feel as if I were deliberately inviting misfortune."

"You are not well, perhaps?"

"Bless my soul! How reasonable you are! No, I am well, I am greatly in love, and yet—"

"Upon my word!" said the Vicomte, "I can't see what you expect me to say."

"I have not told you all, and I have an admission to make that is not altogether agreeable. The truth is, I was so carried away by Carmen's beauty, that—"

"You became engaged to her?"

"I kissed her, my friend, and I was not repulsed nor reproved. She considered the kiss given to her fiancÉ. And now, shall I marry her? I tell you, that even when my lips met hers, I felt more sharply than ever the presentiment of which I spoke. I know that after what has taken place I ought to apply to her father for her hand. Why do I hesitate? I cannot tell."

"Does Monsieur de Laisangy inspire you with absolute confidence?" asked Esperance, after a long pause.

The two friends had passed the Arc de Triomphe by this time, and entered the dark shadows of the Bois.

"Monsieur de Laisangy seems to have an excellent reputation. Bankers are measured by a standard of their own, and public opinion is never very strict in regard to them. Monsieur de Laisangy is rich, but no one says he has made his money dishonestly. I know nothing of his past, but have never heard a whisper against him, and yet sometimes he inspires me with absolute repulsion."

"My dear Goutran," said Esperance, in that grave, steady voice, which was so like his father's, "I am very young, I know nothing of life, I have never loved, but it seems to me that I could not speak as you have done, if I felt sincerely or deeply. I do not think I could analyze my ambitions so artistically." Esperance now began to speak more rapidly and with emotion. "To love is to give up one's entire being, to live in another. You say that you love, that your lips have touched those of whom you have chosen, and that your heart sank at that same moment. No, you do not love Carmen de Laisangy!"

At this moment both men heard the report of a pistol.

"What is that?" cried Goutran.

"Some crime, I fear," answered his companion.

The two friends forced their way through the underbrush, Esperance a little in advance. Suddenly he beheld in an open space a prostrate form. It was that of a woman. Esperance rushed forward and lifted her from the ground. He uttered a hoarse cry. It was she whose life he had so recently saved—it was Jane Zeld. A small revolver lay at her side.

Esperance, bearing her in his vigorous arms, made his way into the road.