"Oh! I suspected that you wouldn't believe me; but I have my proofs." And Ballangier, feeling in his pocket, triumphantly produced a letter, which he handed to me. It came from Besançon, it was signed _Morillot_, and it did, in fact, contain what he had said. I had already given him money; but if I could finally rid myself of him and of the fear of meeting him in Paris---- That hope put an end to my hesitation. I opened my secretary, took out four hundred francs in gold, and placed the money in Ballangier's hand. "Take it," I said; "and may you at last make a good use of what I give you!" Ballangier turned purple with pleasure when he held the gold pieces in his hand; he made as if he would throw himself on my neck; but I stepped back and he checked himself, crying: "That is true, I am not worthy; but I will wait till another time. I propose to become a model of virtue. Sacrebleu! I propose that you shall be satisfied with me at last! I will make it a point of honor! Au revoir, Charlot!--no, I mean adieu! you prefer that, and you're quite right." He said no more, but walked quickly from the room. And I breathed more freely when he was no longer there. XVI MADAME LANDERNOY I felt the need of some distraction to enable me to forget the visit I had just received. "Ah!" I thought; "I will go and hunt up the poor girl from Sceaux." I had finished dressing. Pomponne, seeing that I was preparing to go out, planted himself in front of me, like a soldier awaiting the countersign, and said: "Is monsieur going out?" "As you see." "Monsieur has no orders for me?" "None." "Will monsieur return to dinner?" "Come, come, Pomponne! are you going crazy altogether?" "I don't think so, monsieur." "Then why do you ask me that question? You know perfectly well that I usually dine at a table d'hôte, and never at home." "True, monsieur; but you do sometimes dine at home, when you have company, you know.--Ha! ha!" Monsieur Pomponne felt called upon to laugh slyly and assume a mischievous look; for you must know that I dine at home only when I am entertaining a lady who fears to compromise her reputation by going to a restaurant. There are ladies who decline to go to restaurants, but are perfectly willing to go to a gentleman's apartment. I am far from blaming them; everyone is free to act as she pleases. But it was a long time since I had entertained in my own quarters, my recent acquaintances having had no dislike for restaurants. So I simply informed Pomponne that he was a zany, and left the house.