"Believe me, monsieur, no visit of yours will ever be inopportune here," responded the duchess, earnestly. "I only ask your permission to show my friend to the door." "I beg you will do so," answered the marquis, bowing. "I should be miserable if you stood on the slightest ceremony with me." Mlle. de Beaumesnil was obliged to exercise all her self-control to maintain even an appearance of calmness, but, fortunately, the little hall-way leading to Herminie's room was dark, so the sudden alteration in Ernestine's features escaped the notice of her friend, as she said: "Ernestine, after all I have just confided to you, I need not tell you how necessary your presence will be to me. Alas! I did not think I should so soon put your friendship to the test. In pity, Ernestine, do not leave me long alone! If you only knew how I shall suffer, for I cannot hope to see Gerald again, or, rather, the hope is so uncertain that I dare not even think of it, so I beseech you not to let any length of time pass without my seeing you." "You may rest assured that I shall return as soon as I can, and that it will not be any fault of mine if--" "Alas! I understand. Your time must be devoted to your work, because you are obliged to work in order to live. It is the same with me. In spite of my mental anguish, I shall have to begin my round of lessons one hour from now. My lessons, great Heavens! and I scarcely know what I am doing. But with people like us, we are not only obliged to suffer, but also to live." Herminie uttered these last words with such despairing bitterness that Mlle. de Beaumesnil threw her arms around her friend's neck, and burst into tears. "Come, come, I will not be so weak again, Ernestine," said Herminie, returning the embrace; "I promise you I will not. I will be content with whatever time you can give me. I will wait and think of you," added the duchess, forcing a smile. "Yes, to think of you, and to await your return, will be some consolation." "Farewell, Herminie, farewell," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil. "I shall soon see you again,--just as soon as I possibly can, I promise you,--day after to-morrow, if possible. Yes, I will manage it somehow," added the orphan, resolutely, "day after to-morrow, at the same hour, you can count upon seeing me." "Thank you, thank you!" exclaimed Herminie, embracing Ernestine effusively. "Ah, the compassion I showed to you your generous heart returns in liberal measure." "Day after to-morrow, then, it shall be, Herminie." "Again I thank you with my whole heart." "And now good-bye," said the orphan. It was in a deeply agitated frame of mind that she wended her way back to the spot where her governess was waiting for her in the cab. As she left the house, she met a man who was walking slowly up the street, casting furtive glances at the house in which Herminie lived.