struck her to go to her jeweller and borrow the money. She pretended that she had lost her purse, and then returned to the furrier’s to pay for her jacket, picked up her own carriage, which, she had left at a friend’s house and ordered to meet her outside the shops near the Louvre, and reappeared at home dressed as she was when she went out. These are the true details. Would you believe them? Her visit to the jeweller’s and furrier’s moved me very much. How frightened she must have been at risking them. Now all she has to do is to tell her maid a lie to account for the difference of jackets. A mistake after calling or trying on, that is all. But every fresh little lie is a new landmark if the husband pursues his inquiries. This man would shrink from questioning the servants. That is what saved us this time. He will have had me followed, not his wife, but I was imprudent enough to accompany her to the rooms. My luck makes me frightened,” he added seriously, after being silent for a time. “Yesterday’s discovery has, all the same, not destroyed Bonnivet’s jealousy, I repeat, since he returned home during my visit, and if Camille does not keep her promise his suspicion may be aroused again.” “But with this distrust and the knowledge he possesses of your rooms,” I said, “your appointments will not be very easy to make.” “It is for that reason that Madam de Bonnivet will not fail to keep one now. She is a curious and bored woman, and her commonplace adventure with me has at last given her the tremor,” he added smilingly. “Ah, ah, she is of the same nature as the divine marquis to some extent. But you don’t understand these things at all, my dear boy. As for the address of the rooms, the fact that Bonnivet knows it will make no difference. Having seen me leave there with Camille, he will never believe me capable of taking the other one to the Rue Nouvelle.” “You will go on then without any fear?” “Yes. I was frightened yesterday when I heard the ringing and knocking at the door, and I repeat that I am sometimes afraid of my luck. It is as stupid as believing in the evil eye, but the feeling, is stronger than I am.” “There is no doubt that in Camille,” I replied, “you have met the only woman in Paris capable of such an action. If you had even a little bit of heart, you would spend your life in making her pardon your infamy.”