I was no longer surprised at the embarrassment I had observed in Raymond's manner when we last met. The traitor! so that was why he avoided me. The fellow was my evil genius, in very truth! He knew that I knew Nicette; he knew, perhaps, that I loved her. If I had listened to nothing but my rage, I should have gone to him and insulted him. But how can one obtain satisfaction from a dastard? and would his death make Nicette what I formerly believed her to be? I would despise one and forget the other; that was the only course for me to pursue. Once more I sought in repose oblivion of my suffering. What a different night from the last! Last night, forming delightful plans based upon love and constancy; to-night, cursing that sentiment and the woman who had inspired it! If the weariness caused by such tempests of emotion made me doze for a moment, my first thought, on reopening my eyes, was of all my blasted hopes. When I was dressed, I could not resist the longing to talk with Raymond. I promised myself to retain my self-control, to hold myself in check, and to conceal the state of my heart. I hastened across the landing and knocked and rang at his door. The concierge knew that he was at home; he was not in the habit of rising early; still he did not open the door. I rang again, and that time the bellrope remained in my hand. I heard sounds at last; I recognized his heavy tread, and soon his nasal tones greeted my ears. "Who is it making such a row at my door before seven o'clock? It's outrageous to wake a man up like this!" "It's I, neighbor; it's I, Dorsan; I want to talk with you." For some seconds he did not reply, and when he did I knew by his voice that he was not gratified by my call. "What! is it you, my dear neighbor?" "Yes, it's I." "What brings you here so early?" "You shall learn; but first let me in; I don't like to talk through a door." "I beg your pardon--you see, I'm in my nightshirt." "Bah! what difference does it make to me, whether you're in your nightshirt, or naked, or fully dressed? I have no desire to examine your person. Open the door! then you can go back to bed; that won't interfere with my talking to you." "You see, I passed most of the night writing birthday rhymes; and I am still sleepy." "Oh! morbleu! Monsieur Raymond, open the door, or I'll break it down!"