"It will not compromise you, in the least, my son, and if you are resolved to deny me the dearest wish of my life, all I ask, as a last satisfaction, is to spend a few days with Ramon and his daughter. You shall then be free to act as you please." Then seeing Louis take up his hat, he asked anxiously: "Where are you going?" "My head aches, and I am going out for a whiff of fresh air," replied the young man. "In mercy don't go out, my boy!" cried the old man, with growing alarm. "You look gloomy and out of sorts since you read that letter. Really, you frighten me!" "You are mistaken. The letter was absolutely insignificant, I assure you," returned Louis, closing the door behind him. As he was rushing out, however, the concierge hailed him and invited him to enter the lodge. "What is it?" asked Louis, struck by the man's mysterious air. "Here is a card left for you by a decorated gentleman," explained the concierge. "He came in an elegant carriage, and said this was urgent." Taking the card, Louis approached the light and read: "_Commander de La Miraudière_, "_17 Rue du Mont-Blanc_. "_Will expect M. Louis Richard at my home, between nine and ten o'clock to-morrow morning, to communicate something of grave importance, which admits of no delay._" "Commander de La Miraudière? I never heard the name," said Louis, gazing curiously at the card; then, as he mechanically turned it over, his eyes caught sight of these words in pencil: "_Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue des Prêtres-Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois._" The commander had noted Mariette's address on the back of his card, and unconsciously used the same in writing to Louis to request an interview. Much astonished and perplexed, the young man vainly asked himself what relation could exist between this stranger, whose card he held, and Mariette. "Did the gentleman leave any other message?" he asked the concierge. "Did he say anything?" "Nothing, except that I was to give you the card without your father's knowledge." "Strange," murmured the young man. "He even gave me forty sous, to make sure I would do the errand." "Was he young or old?" "A very handsome man, wearing the ribbon, with a mustache and side-whiskers black as ink, and dressed like a prince, not counting his elegant cabriolet." Louis went out more perplexed than ever. This new incident redoubled his anguish; by dint of seeking Mariette's motive for this abrupt rupture, he was beginning to feel the sharp pangs of jealousy. Once under this influence, the wildest suspicions and most chimerical fears assumed the appearance of reality to his eyes; and he finally asked himself if this stranger might not be a rival. How else was he to explain Mariette's relations with a young and handsome young man?