This time she was not at her window; but could I expect her to give herself a twist in the neck in order to see me a moment sooner? No! I was too sensible to demand that. I went upstairs and rang--no answer. She had gone out! She had probably got tired of waiting for me, and had gone out for a walk, perhaps to make some new purchases. There was nothing for me to do but to go away and return; but I concluded to ring once more. I did so, to no purpose. I went downstairs in an ill humor, because I was annoyed; nothing annoys one more than a postponed pleasure. I had no right to be angry because she had gone out; still, it seemed to me that she might have waited for me. I walked away, scratching my ear; indeed, I believe that I scratched my head. Was it a presentiment? Alas! I had never yet found a faithful woman! But I had vowed not to distress myself beforehand; that never does any good. I determined to do my best not to distress myself afterward either! I should be more certain of being happy. As I turned into the boulevard, I saw her. What a costume for a morning walk! She caught sight of me and seemed embarrassed. She came toward me, however. We both smiled, but I believe that neither of us felt any inclination that way; it is so easy to distinguish a forced smile! "Ah! here you are at last!" "Yes: does that surprise you?" "I didn't expect you so late." "I quite believe that you didn't expect me." "Have you just come from my rooms?" "Yes; and you?" "I have been for a little walk." "What a dress!" "I don't see anything uncommon about it." "Not in comparison with the one you wore on Rue des Rosiers?" "You always have something unkind to say!" "I don't see what there is unkind in what I said." "I suppose you'd have me go out in cap and apron!" "They wouldn't be unbecoming to you." "But I have no desire to wear them." "Oh! I believe you!" "To hear you, anyone would think that before you knew me I was a stupid, awkward country girl!" "I am well aware that you were not an innocent maid." "Are we going to stay here on the boulevard all night? I am going home; are you coming with me?" I hesitated; but I went with her. When we were in her apartment, Caroline joked me about my severe air. In truth, what right had I to reproach her? I was far from amiable sometimes, I knew; and a man who scolds and grumbles is seldom loved. True; but a man who is loved never appears to scold; he is always right. I kissed Caroline, and peace was made. We dined together, and I took her to the theatre; but although I did my best to amuse her, she did not seem to enjoy herself very much. She appeared to be distraught, preoccupied; I was almost tempted to find fault with her, but I restrained myself, for she would have said that I was always complaining! But if she had been as she used to be, I should have had no cause to complain. Ah! I say again, when a man ceases to be lovable, it means that he is no longer loved.