"Ah! you open carriage-doors now, do you? Ha! ha! I congratulate you on your new trade." This outburst of merriment seemed untimely, to say the least, to Gustave, who rejoined: "I have no choice but to wait for cabs to arrive, as I fail to find you at home; as you go out without even leaving a line for me so that I may know where you are." "Oh! mon Dieu! what a terrible crime! Am I no longer my own mistress--to go where I please without asking your leave? That would be very amusing!" "You know very well, Fanny, that that isn't what I mean; you know that you are at liberty to do whatever you choose to do. So do not try to dodge the question. At the point we have reached, it is natural for us to tell each other what we do; for we ought to have no secrets from each other. I came here this morning, and you didn't see me on account of your headache." "Well, monsieur, am I no longer allowed to have a headache? Pay the cabman, will you; I have come from Madame Delabert's.--Can I no longer visit my friends, I should like to know?" "Come, come, Fanny, don't be angry; perhaps I was foolish to be anxious. But it would have been so easy for you to leave word for me! Remember that I haven't seen you at all to-day, and a whole day without seeing you seems very long now!" "It isn't my fault if I have a sick headache. I can still feel the effects of it, so I am going to bed; I am very tired." "Mayn't I come up with you for a moment?" "Oh! I should think not! it wouldn't be proper, so late." "It isn't eleven yet." "But I tell you that I still feel the effects of my headache, and that I am going straight to bed." "Why didn't you go to see that apartment I told you about--on Rue Fontaine, near Place Saint-Georges?" "Why didn't I? Because I forgot all about it." "How could you forget a thing of such importance? For, if it suits you, we must rent it at once." "Oh! my dear friend, I am not anxious to stand here in the street any longer. What do we look like--talking like this on a doorstep?" "Then let me come up a moment." "No; I tell you that I am going to bed!" "There's something wrong, Fanny. This isn't natural. You're not the same with me that you were two days ago." "You can tell me all that to-morrow. Good-night!" "Very well, until to-morrow, then, madame! I trust that you will be visible?" "Mon Dieu! monsieur, I am always visible when I am not sick. But don't come too early; for I don't rise with the dawn." Fanny knocked, and the door opened. She hurried in and closed the door on Gustave, who remained in the street, poor fellow, unable to make up his mind to leave his fair one's abode. He did not know what to believe. He asked himself if he had not done wrong to reproach Fanny; she had been to see one of her friends, and had returned alone: there was no great harm in that. And yet, he was ill at ease, he suffered; his heart told him that something was wrong, and that his love was not the same to him as before.