I followed Ernest; he led me into a very attractive house, and we went up three flights; he rang, and my former neighbor opened the door. She uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me. “Ah! it is Monsieur Blémont! What a miracle!” “Parbleu! if he has come, my dear love, it is simply because I met him and brought him by force; but for that, you wouldn’t have seen him yet.” “Ah! how wicked it is to forget one’s good friends, one’s neighbors!” “Mon Dieu! madame, you see--that----” “Ha! ha! he is getting mixed up; he is ashamed of his wrongdoing,” said Ernest, laughingly; “we must be generous and say nothing more to him about it.” They ushered me into a bedroom which served as a salon; it was not magnificent, but there was everything that was necessary, and there was an atmosphere of order and of neatness which did much credit to the mistress of the house. Madame Ernest, for I could call her by no other name, was a little stouter than of old; she was most attractive, and her eyes and all her features expressed a contentment, a happiness which added to her charm. They made me sit down, and we talked of the evenings we had passed together in the attic, long ago. “Are you married to your Eugénie?” asked Madame Ernest. “Yes, madame, thirteen months ago.” “You must be very happy! for you were very much in love with her, and she loved you dearly too.” “Yes, madame.” “Have you any children?” “What a foolish creature!” said Ernest; “do you suppose that they have had six or seven in thirteen months?” “I mean a child.” “Yes, I have had a little daughter for two months and a half.” “Ah! you are luckier than we are. I should like so much to have a child; and since my miscarriage--But this time I have hopes.” And the little woman glanced at Ernest with a smile; he smiled back at her, saying: “Are such things mentioned before people?” “Oh! never mind! What harm is there in hoping to be a mother?--Besides, Monsieur Blémont isn’t ‘people;’ he is our friend; he proved it that night that I was sick.--But come and see what pretty rooms we have.” The little woman showed me over her apartments, which consisted of three rooms and a small dressing-room. She stopped in front of the fireplace in her bedroom and said: “Do you see? We have a clock!” “Hush, Marguerite!” said Ernest. “No, no, I am going to speak. Ought I to pretend to be proud with Monsieur Henri, who knew me when I was so poor and unhappy? I am sure that it pleases him to see that we have all these things.” “Indeed, you are quite right, madame; and you judge me aright in thinking that I am happy in your happiness.” “I was right, you see. I also have a woman who comes in in the morning, to do the heavy work. Ernest insisted upon it, because he declares that I am not strong enough.” “How interesting to monsieur to know that!”