After that duet, Gerval proposed another; she declined on the ground of a sore throat, and returned to her seat by my side. Gerval remained for some time; it seemed to me that he was less merry, less sparkling that evening than usual. At last he said good-night and left. I drew nearer to Eugénie; she still held her work, but she was not working; our eyes met often; we talked in undertones; I had so many things to say to her now, and yet we exchanged only a few words; but our glances were more eloquent than our speech. How rapidly the time passed! I was so happy with her! The card players finished their game, and Madame Dumeillan called to her daughter to give her her purse. The others were going away, and I must needs do the same. “I hope that it will not be so long before you come again,” said Madame Dumeillan kindly. And Eugénie, as she passed me, whispered: “You will come to-morrow, won’t you?” My eyes alone answered, but she must have understood them; I saw a loving smile upon her lips. I went away, drunk with love and pleasure. I returned home hardly touching the ground. It seemed to me that my happiness bore me aloft and transported me to the third heaven,--that is to say, if there is a third heaven. As I went upstairs, I thought of my young lovers on the fifth floor. I had neglected them sadly for some time! But I had been constantly depressed and jealous and in ill humor, and the picture of their love would simply have aggravated my suffering. Now I could safely go to see them. I should not be sad and gloomy with them, and they would understand my happiness. It was only a quarter-past eleven, and I decided to see whether they had gone to bed. I went upstairs, knocked and mentioned my name; Ernest opened the door. “Where on earth have you been?” he said, laughing; “it’s a month since we’ve seen you.” “He has just come from his Eugénie,” said little Marguerite. “Oh! how happy we look! It seems that our love-affair is progressing finely!” “Yes, very well indeed. Ah! I am the happiest of men to-night! She loves me, I am sure of it now; she prefers me to all the men who have made love to her; and yet I was much less attentive, much less agreeable than the others.” “What difference does that make? One is always agreeable when one is in love.” I told them all that had taken place that evening between Eugénie and me. They listened with interest, they understood me, for they loved each other dearly. When I had finished my story, I sprang up and danced about the room; I could not keep still. “Look out!” said Marguerite; “you’ll smash everything. Why, don’t you see how fine it is here now, monsieur?”