"Excuse me for leaving you, messieurs; but I am going into the country for a few days, and I must make my toilet; you understand that, for a lady, that is too important a matter not to require a great deal of time." The visitors understood that they must go. Both rose, and both took leave of the young woman. The Swede kissed her hand with much gravity; Albert contented himself with pressing it hard, saying under his breath: "I hope to see you immediately after your return to Paris." "I count upon it," replied Madame Baldimer, aloud. "I will write you as soon as I return." The two rivals went downstairs together; on reaching the street, they saluted without a word. Albert stood and looked after the count as he walked away, and was strongly tempted to go up to Madame Baldimer again; but he changed his mind and went home. "To go back now," he said to himself, "would be a mistake. What should I say? I broke that fan; she saw that I did it in anger, and she didn't reprove me. But I must make that up to her. I have deprived her of one present, so I owe her another. That cashmere she spoke about is very expensive, I suppose, but no matter! It shall not be said that a Swede was more gallant than I. And yet--I don't know--but it seems to me that that woman doesn't love me;--and I thought that her acquaintance would cost me nothing! Ah! I hoped that she would be more amiable and less coquettish. I should do very well to forget Madame Baldimer--I know that. Why am I so bent upon triumphing over her? Oh! vanity, vanity!" XIV THE MARAIS.--A MYSTERY Sans-Cravate had quickened his pace in order to reach Rue du Temple, into which he thought that he had seen Bastringuette turn. When he walked at his ordinary gait, he moved almost as rapidly as a cab; so that, as may be imagined, his double-quick step was likely to tire anybody who attempted to keep up with him. Jean Ficelle was compelled to run, in order not to lose sight of his comrade. From time to time, he called out to him: "Stop a minute, won't you! I can't keep up with you; do you want to see my spleen swell up like a balloon? _Sacrédié!_ you ought to be a runner; I believe you could beat the horses on the Champ de Mars!" Sans-Cravate reached Rue de la Corderie without catching another glimpse of the woman he had thought was Bastringuette. There he halted at last. "It's mighty lucky," panted Jean Ficelle. "I was just going to give out; on my word, I was blowing like a cab horse!" "I don't see that woman," said Sans-Cravate; "it's very strange! Where the devil has she gone to?" "Was it really Bastringuette that you saw turn into this street? You ain't sure of it, are you?" "No." "What are we going to do now?" "As long as we're in the Marais, let's go to Rue Barbette, where my traitor's cousin lives."