The next day being Sabbath, he went to the Garden Street Church in the morning and to Trinity Church in the afternoon. In both houses he met acquaintances, whose recognition of him appeared to be cooler and more constrained than usual. But then he knew that he was suspicious, and the change was probably only an imaginary one. When he left Trinity he walked northward to the Semple house, and on the way met at least two painful incidents, which were not imagination: When opposite the City Hall Park he saw Doctor Stevens and his wife approaching him, and as soon as they perceived Leonard they crossed Broadway and entered the park. And as this movement took them off the direct way to their home Leonard was justified in believing they had made it to avoid a meeting with him. The circumstance pained and angered him. He turned quickly into Chambers Street, and saw Mr. Leonard Fisher coming towards him. Now, Mr. Fisher was one of the officers of the Washington Benevolent Society, of which society Leonard had been the most active member. On business of relief and charity he had come constantly in contact with Mr. Fisher, and always in a temper of friendly courtesy. He expected nothing but a kindly greeting from him, but when he was half a block distant Mr. Fisher crossed the street, and as Leonard passed he kept his eyes stubbornly set on some object in front of him. Burning with a sense of wrong and injustice, Leonard hastened forward and threw himself upon Achille’s friendship. Here he was not disappointed. Achille entered into his feelings and espoused his cause with complete understanding and ardent sympathy. He acknowledged Francis de Mille had said something of the slander to him on the previous day, but that he had laughed away the words as utterly preposterous, and De Mille had let the subject drop. “But,” he added, “it can be dropped no longer. Judge Bloommaert is right. The rascal has had a clear field too long--now, he must be made to acknowledge his lies, as lies; and then hold his tongue about your affairs forever.” “What is to be done, Achille?” “There is but one way--for a man of honour. You must challenge him immediately.” “I suppose so--but Sappha is distressed at the idea. I fear I shall lose her if I do. And the judge is against the practice.” “Those questions come afterwards. Women know not their own minds. If you fail to punish this ill-tongued fellow, Sappha, in her heart, will despise you--and the judge also. Take my word for that--so will all honourable men. You remember that affair in New Orleans? Duplicate it.” This last remark seemed to give a sudden light and hope to Leonard. He smiled and said cheerfully: “That would be sufficient; thank you, Achille. Now then, where am I most likely to meet Gilson? Do you know his haunts or the places he most frequents?”