'Is it really too late?' he asked himself, as he paced up and down his room. He could see, like a port in the distance, the country home of his old aunt, his father's sister, to whom he wrote two or three times a year, and nearly always to ask for money. He saw before him the little room that awaited his coming, its window looking out upon a meadow. The meadow, through which ran a stream bordered with willows, was closed in by some rising ground. Why not take refuge there and try to commence over again? Why not make one more attempt to escape the misery of an existence in which there was not a single illusion left? Why not go at once, without again beholding the woman who had exercised a more baneful influence upon him than Suzanne had had upon René? The agitation brought on by this sudden prospect of a still possible salvation drove him from his rooms, but not before he had told Ferdinand to pack his trunk. He went out and wandered aimlessly as far as the entrance to the Champs-Elysées. On this bright May evening the roadway was crowded with an interminable line of carriages. The contrast between the moving panorama of Paris at its gayest, once his delight, and the quiet scene he had evoked for his complete reform, charmed his artistic soul. He sat down upon a chair and watched the string of vehicles, recognising a face here and there, and recalling the rumours, true or false, he had heard about each. Suddenly a carriage came in view that attracted his particular attention--no, he was not mistaken! It was an elegant victoria, in which sat Madame Moraines with Desforges by her side, and Paul Moraines facing them. Suzanne was smiling at the Baron, who was evidently taking his mistress and her husband to the Bois--probably to dine there. She did not see René's friend, who gazed after her shapely blonde head, half turned to her protector, until it was lost to view. He laughed. 'What a comedy life is, and how silly we are to turn it into a drama!' He took out his watch and rose hurriedly. 'Half-past six--I shall be late for Colette.' And he hailed a passing cab in order to get to the Rue de Rivoli--five minutes sooner! THE END.