A cloud of dust announced the approach of a party. I thought that I could see two women among the riders, and I stopped to look at them. The cavalcade came up at a gallop and passed close to me. Having glanced at one of the ladies, I turned my eyes upon the other. It was Eugénie,--Eugénie, dressed in a stylish riding habit, and riding gracefully a spirited horse. She almost brushed against me, her horse covered me with dust and I was utterly unable to step back. I stood there, so startled, so oppressed, that I had not the strength to walk. The cavalcade was already far away, and my eyes were still following it; I stood in the same spot, benumbed, motionless, with no eyes for anything else. Other horsemen came up at a fast gallop. I did not hear them. They called to me: “Look out!” but I did not stir. Suddenly I felt a violent shock; I was thrown down upon the gravel, and a horse’s hoof struck me in the head. My eyes closed and I lost consciousness. When I came to myself, I found myself in one of the cafés at the entrance to the Bois. I saw many people about me; among others, several young swells. One of them said to me: “I am terribly distressed, monsieur; I am the cause of your accident. I shouted to you, however; but my horse had too much impetus, and I could not stop him.” “Yes, that is true,” observed a man who was holding my head; “I can testify that monsieur shouted: ‘Look out!’ but why should anyone ride like the wind? I shouted to you: ‘Stop!’ but prout! you didn’t stop.” I recognized Pettermann; it was he who was behind me. I accepted the apology of the young cavalier and told him that I bore him no ill will. I reassured him concerning my wound, although I felt very weak, for I had lost much blood. Someone had sent for a carriage and I asked Pettermann if he could go with me. “What’s that? can I!” replied the tailor; “why, if I couldn’t, I’d go with you all the same. As if I would leave in this condition an excellent neighbor of mine who paid me forty francs in advance! Prout! you don’t know me!” They bandaged my head and helped me into the cab. Pettermann seated himself opposite me and we returned to Paris. On the way, my wound occupied my attention much less than the meeting I had had. I asked Pettermann if he had not seen a woman riding past me when they took me up and carried me away. “When you were thrown down,” said the tailor, “I was within thirty yards of you. I was walking, loafing, I had nothing to do. However, I did go to your room this morning, monsieur, to ask you for your cloth; but I never find you in the morning and at night I can’t find your door.” “That isn’t what I asked you.”