"No, no, uncle, go to bed. Tell Madame Barbancon to leave the key with the porter, and some matches in the kitchen. I won't wake you, I'll come in quietly." "Good-bye, M. Gerald," said the veteran, taking the young duke's hand, and pressing it in a very significant manner, as if to remind him of his promise in regard to Olivier's promotion. "Good-bye, commander," said Gerald, returning the pressure, and indicating by a gesture that he read the veteran's thought. "You will permit me to come and see you again, will you not?" "It would give me great pleasure, you may be sure of that, M. Gerald." "Yes, commander, for I judge you by myself. Good-bye. Come, Olivier, I will accompany you to the door of your master mason." "I shall have the pleasure of your company a quarter of an hour longer, then. Good night, uncle." "Good night, my dear boy." And Olivier, taking up his bundle of papers and pens, left the house arm in arm with Gerald. At the master mason's door they separated, promising to see each other again at an early day. About an hour after Olivier left his uncle, Madame Barbancon was brought back to the Batignolles in Madame de Beaumesnil's carriage. The veteran, amazed at the silence of his housekeeper, and at the gloomy expression of her face, addressed her several times in vain, and finally begged her to help herself to the small portion of Cyprian wine that remained. Madame Barbancon took the bottle and started towards the door, then stopped short and crossed her arms with a meditative air, a movement that caused the wine-bottle to fall with a crash upon the floor. "The deuce take you!" cried the veteran. "Look at the Cyprian wine you've wasted." "True, I've broken the bottle," replied the housekeeper, with the air of a person just waking from a dream. "It is not surprising. Since I saw and heard Madame la Comtesse de Beaumesnil,--for I have just seen her, and in such a pitiable state, poor woman!--I have been racking my brain to remember something I can not remember, and I know very well that I shall be absolutely good for nothing for a long time." "It is a good thing to know this in advance," replied the veteran, with his usual placidity of manner on seeing Madame Barbancon again relapse into a deeply preoccupied frame of mind. CHAPTER V. THE LION OF THE BALL. On the day following Olivier Raymond's chance meeting with Gerald, the mother of the latter gave a dancing party. The Duchesse de Senneterre, both by birth and by marriage, was connected with the oldest and most illustrious families of France, and though her fortune was insignificant and her house small, she gave every year four or five small but extremely elegant and exclusive dancing receptions, of which she and her two young daughters did the honours with perfect grace. The Duc de Senneterre, dead for two years, had held a high office under the Restoration.