"This morning," said he, "you ride superbly--like an angel"--which was also the opinion of my second, self-appointed groom, who kept saying to himself: "How well she rides! How well she rides!" That was the idea which filled his head during the ride, and he compared me with Catherine de Puymarin. The ride finished, I went and found Miss Morton, got into the dog-cart, and set off for the Rue de Varennes. Young Martelle-Simieuse trotted behind and acted as my escort home. He waited until the door was opened and we had entered, then he satisfied himself that I lived in a good house, in a good street, and that from all appearances I was no adventuress. What he then wanted was the name of the intrepid Amazon. A very simple idea occurred to him. What does the name matter for the moment? He returned home, got the directory--Rue de Varennes, 49 _bis_, Baron and Baronne de Léoty. That is how he discovered the name of her who will perhaps become the faithful partner of his joys and sorrows. Baron de Léoty. He knew papa from the club. But had papa a daughter? The mystery had to be solved. It was very soon solved, for that evening Adrien dined at the Mercerey's, and during a lull in the conversation he said carelessly to Madame Mercerey: "Do you happen to know a Monsieur de Léoty?" "Quite well." "Has he a daughter?" "Yes." "How old is she?" "About twenty." "Very pretty, isn't she?" At which, it appears, there was a general and enthusiastic outburst in my honor. He was the only one present who didn't know me, poor fellow. Madame de Mercerey wanted to know the reason for all his inquiries. So he recounted the story of the morning's ride, my horse's obstinacy, my firmness, my hair flying in the wind--in fact, it was quite a lyrical description, which caused general stupefaction, for he had never been heard to sing in that strain before. Whereupon Madame de Mercerey showed presence of mind which was as rare as it was admirable. _En passant_ it must be observed that she loves mama and hates the Puymarins heartily, although, until about six weeks ago, they were the best of friends. She really has good cause to be offended with them, though. The Puymarins have given three _soirées_ this year--the Orléans princes were at one, and the Grand Duke Vladimir at another, while the third was made up of nobodies. Well, the Duchess invited the Mercereys with the nobodies. Now, considering their birth and fortune, they might reasonably have expected more consideration than that. For that reason they are very angry--and justifiably so.