Dolores and Horace soon arrived, within a short interval of each other, at the house of Doctor Gasterini. We leave the reader to imagine the joy of the two lovers and the expression of their tender gratitude to the doctor and the canon. The profound pity of the canon, the consciousness of assuring the happiness of his niece, were manifested by a hunger as rapacious as that of a tiger, as he whispered, with a doleful voice, in the doctor's ear: "Alas, alas! will your other guests never come, doctor? Some people have such frightful egotism!" "My guests will not delay much longer, my dear canon; it is half-past six, and at seven o'clock every one knows that I go to the table relentlessly." In fact the invited guests of the doctor were not long in assembling, and a valet announced successively the following names: "The Duke and Duchess of Senneterre-Maillefort!" "Pride," whispered the doctor to the canon and abbé, who made a wry face as he recalled the misadventure of his protégé, who pretended to the hand of the rich heiress, Mlle. de Beaumesnil. "How amiable you are, duchess, to have accepted my invitation!" said the doctor to Herminie, whom he advanced to welcome, kissing her hand respectfully. "If I must tell you, madame, I counted on you to decide on this dear pride, that M. de Maillefort, M. de Senneterre, and I admire so much in you." "And how is that, my dear doctor?" said Gerald de Senneterre, affectionately. "I well know that I owe the happiness of my life to my wife's pride, but--" "Our dear doctor is right," replied Herminie, smiling. "I am very proud of the friendship he has for us, and I avail myself of every opportunity to show him how much I appreciate his attachment, without even speaking of the eternal gratitude we owe him for his devoted care of my son and the daughter of Ernestine. I need not tell you, dear doctor, how much she regrets not being here this evening, but her indisposition keeps her at home, and dear Olivier and her uncle, M. de Maillefort, do not leave the interesting invalid one minute." "There is nothing like these old sailors, these old soldiers of Africa, and these duellist marquises to make good nurses, without wishing to depreciate the terrible Madame Barbançon," replied the doctor, gaily. "Only, duchess, permit me to differ from you in the construction you have placed on my words. I wished to say that your own tendency to pride assured me beforehand that you will encourage in me that delightful sin, in making me proud to have you in my house." "And I, doctor," said Gerald de Senneterre, smiling, "I declare that you encourage in us alarmingly the dainty sin of gluttony, because when one has dined at your house, he becomes a gourmand for ever!" The conversation of the doctor, Herminie, and Gerald, to which the canon was giving close attention, was interrupted by the voice of the valet, who announced: "M. Yvon Cloarek!"