René would have purchased with his blood the shadow of the shadow of a doubt, but the more he dwelt upon all the details that had led to his conviction the more firmly did that conviction take root in his heart. 'But if she had been paying a harmless visit?' hazarded the voice of love. Harmless? Would she have concealed her destination from her coachman? Would she have gone out by the other door, thickly veiled, walking straight before her, but looking furtively about her just as she did on leaving him? And then the appearance of Desforges almost immediately after at the other entrance! . . . All the proofs brought forward by Claude occurred to him one after another--the Society rumours, the recent ruin of the Moraines, the post obtained for the husband, the suggestion made to him by Suzanne for purchasing shares, and her lies, now proved to be such. 'What more positive proofs can I have,' he asked himself, 'except one?' And as the terrible vision of Suzanne in the arms of her aged lover rose up before him he closed his eyes in pain. Then came thoughts of her visit to the Rue Coëtlogon and of the letter he had in his pocket. 'And she dares ask to see me? What can she have to say? I will go, as she asks, and take my revenge by insulting her as Claude insults Colette. . . . No,' he continued, 'that would be degrading myself to her level; true revenge consists in ignoring her. I shall not go.' He wavered between these two decisions, feeling quite powerless to make up his mind, so intense was his longing to see Suzanne once more and so sincere his resolution not to be duped again by her lies. His perplexity became so great that he resolved to go and ask Claude's advice. Now only did he begin to feel some surprise that this faithful friend had not sent to inquire about him in the morning, as he had promised to do. 'I'll go and call on him, although he'll probably not be in,' said René as he bent his steps towards the Rue de Varenne. It was about half-past ten when he rang the ponderous bell of the Sainte-Euverte mansion. There was a light burning in one of the apartments occupied by Claude, who, contrary to René's expectations, was not out. The poet found him in the smoking-room, the first of the small set at the top of the stairs. A lamp with a pink globe shed a soft light round the apartment, the walls of which were adorned with a large piece of tapestry and a copy of the 'Triumph of Death' attributed to Orcagna. In a corner of the room the bluish flame of a spirit lamp was burning under a small tea kettle; this, with the two cups, a decanter of sherry, and some _bouchées au foie gras_ on a china dish were proofs that the occupant of this quiet abode expected a visitor. A bundle of small Russian cigarettes with long mouthpieces--Colette's favourites--plainly revealed to René who that visitor was. He would still have hesitated to believe his own eyes had not Claude, in evident embarrassment, said, with a shamefaced smile: