Albert, angry beyond measure, had sworn once more to cease to think of that woman who made a plaything of his love; and affairs were at that stage when, on the preceding evening, he and his friends had spied the fair American in a little _citadine_, driving along the boulevard. We have seen what followed. Unable to control the passion which dominated him, Albert wrote to Madame Baldimer, imploring her to accord him a tête-à-tête, and swearing that she would never see him again if she refused. The reply was laconic, but favorable. "Come at one o'clock to-morrow," said the note which he had received from the lovely widow, and which had made him so happy. Let us accompany him now to the lady's abode, where he arrived at the hour mentioned in the note. A maid ushered the young man into a small salon furnished with all the dainty coquetry of a boudoir. Enveloped in an ample blouse of white muslin, gathered about her waist by a gold cord, Madame Baldimer sat, or rather half reclined, on a divan. Her beautiful black hair was her only head-dress, but the novel and original fashion in which it was arranged, and the elegant simplicity of her dress, which heightened her charms--everything combined to impart to her person something which would have vanquished the most insensible of men, and Albert was very far from that. At sight of the person she expected, and of whose passionate admiration of her beauty she was well aware, Madame Baldimer's eyes gleamed, and her face lighted up with a peculiar expression. Was it pleasure, love, or simple coquetry? One must needs have been a talented physiognomist to divine what was taking place in that woman's heart. Albert bowed gracefully, and, at a sign from her, took his seat by her side. "I trust that I shall hear no further complaints from you," said Madame Baldimer, with a smile; "I have given you this rendezvous--the tête-à-tête for which you asked me. Do you know that that is a very great favor?" "Do you imagine, madame, that I am not profoundly conscious of its value; do you already repent of having afforded me so very great a pleasure?" "I never repent of what I have done, for I always reflect before acting; and I realize all the consequences of what I accord, of what I promise." "Then you give me leave to love you and to tell you so, to hope that you will share my sentiments? for all that is the natural consequence of this priceless interview which you have deigned to grant me." "Oh! gently, gently, Monsieur Albert; you go too fast. Love me, if you will; I do not forbid you--far from it; but I must be absolutely certain of your love, I must be convinced that it is too great to recoil before any obstacle--any sacrifice--before I make up my mind to yield to it." "Oh! madame, are you not certain of the power of your charms, of the boundless influence you exert over me? What proof must you have, in order to believe in my love? Speak, command!--I am prepared to obey."