Jules fell into the habit of calling for the Perraults in the evening, and he soon became recognized at the _Cirque_ as their escort. Réju, who still showed respect for him as a journalist, admitted him to the theatre every night without charge, and he was also permitted to enter the sacred precincts beyond the stage-door, where, instead of waiting on the sidewalk, he stood in a cold corridor, dimly lighted by sputtering lamps. After the performance, he sometimes took his friends into the little _café_ for beer and sandwiches, and occasionally Madame Perrault would prepare a supper at home. Jules' equilibrium became restored again; he made fewer mistakes at the office and he even deceived the twins, who had come to the conclusion that he must be in love. With Madeleine, in spite of his first confidences, he had little to say about Mademoiselle Blanche, and she did not dare ask him questions. His silence and his improved appetite, together with his renewed amiability, made her hope that he had recovered from his infatuation, and she felt easier in mind. On the Saturday evening following his first call on Mademoiselle Blanche, while Jules was sitting in the little apartment, he asked the girl if they might not pass Sunday together. "We might drive through the _Bois_ into the country," he suggested. She had been looking into the fire, and she glanced at him hesitatingly. "We always go to mass on Sunday morning," she said. For a moment Jules appeared confused. "But can't you go to early mass?" Madame Perrault, who was in the next room, called out: "It's no use trying to persuade her not to go to high mass, monsieur. She'd think something terrible was going to happen to her if she didn't go. Now, I go at eight o'clock; so I have the rest of the day free." Jules looked at Mademoiselle Blanche and smiled, and she smiled back. "I like to hear the music," she explained apologetically. "Oh, she's too religious for _this_ world," Madame Perrault laughed. "I believe she'd go to mass every morning of her life if she didn't have to stay up so late at night. She ought to be in a convent instead of a circus." "In a convent!" Jules exclaimed, in mock alarm. "Don't you ever go to church?" the girl asked, turning to Jules. He looked confused again. "I? Well, no. To tell the truth, I haven't been in a church for nearly ten years. Oh, yes I have. I went to a funeral two years ago at the Trinity." "But weren't you--weren't you brought up to go to church?" "Brought up to go to church? Oh, yes; my mother went to church every Sunday of her life. I used to go with her after my father died."