What did I see? The portrait of Eugénie was no longer there, but the portrait of my daughter, of my Henriette! Dear child! Yes, it was really she; there was her smile, there were her eyes. It seemed to me as if I had her before me! I kissed my child’s image. “Dear book,” I thought, “you shall never leave me again now; for although a child may tire of seeing her father, a father always takes pleasure in gazing at his child’s features.”--Ah! how grateful I was to Eugénie for sending me that portrait! If anyone could still plead for her, who could undertake that duty better than her daughter? I desired to know who had placed those things on my mantel. I rang and Pettermann appeared, still rubbing his eyes. “Pettermann, you were drunk yesterday?” “Yes, monsieur, it was my day.” “How long have you been awake?” “Why, not very long. I had a downright good one yesterday. Prout!” “I know it, for I saw you and spoke to you.” “Faith, I didn’t see you or hear you, monsieur.” “Then you haven’t told anybody in the inn that I intended to go away last night?” “Go away last night?” “And it wasn’t you who placed this memorandum book and this note on my mantel this morning?” “No, monsieur, I haven’t been into your room since yesterday morning.” “Pettermann, send me the little maid-servant, whose name I believe is Marie,--a stout, short girl.” “Oh! I know, monsieur, she is the one who brought me my breakfast yesterday.” The maid appeared. She denied having brought the note and the book; but she confessed that she had said that morning, before the other servants, that I had wanted to go away in the night. What did it matter by whom Eugénie had sent me those things? I was no longer angry with her for doing it; but as I did not wish to compel her to keep her room, I would go away. And yet, if I should go at once, she would think that I could not endure to be near her, and I did not want to convey that idea to her, as a reward for the presents she had made me. I did not know what course to pursue. I had ordered breakfast served in my room, and was about to sit down, when Monsieur Roquencourt appeared. “Good-morning, Monsieur Dalbreuse.” “Monsieur, accept my respects. What happy circumstance affords me the honor of this early visit?” “My dear friend, my niece has sent me to ask you to come to breakfast with us and to drink a cup of tea. She hurried me, she hurried me so! Luckily, I dress very fast. When one has acted in theatricals, one is so accustomed to change one’s costume! By the way, my dear Monsieur Dalbreuse, what is this that my niece tells me? You attempted to go away last night, to leave us without even bidding us good-bye?” “It is true, monsieur, that----”