Hubert and Hubertine then objected, wishing to refuse in their turn, for fear the fatigue might be too great for her. “No,” she replied. “It is never wise to send away money that is brought to you. You can depend upon me, Monsieur. Your mitre will be ready the evening before the procession.” Felicien left the design and bade them good-day, for he was greatly disappointed, and he had no longer the courage to give any new explanations in regard to the work, as an excuse for stopping longer. What would he gain by doing so? It was certainly true that she did not like him, for she had pretended not to recognise him, and had treated him as she would any ordinary customer, whose money alone is good to take. At first he was angry, as he accused her of being mean-spirited and grasping. So much the better! It was ended between them, this unspoken romance, and he would never think of her again. Then, as he always did think of her, he at last excused her, for was she not dependent upon her work to live, and ought she not to gain her bread? Two days later he was very unhappy, and he began to wander around the house, distressed that he could not see her. She no longer went out to walk. She did not even go to the balcony, or to the window, as before. He was forced to acknowledge that if she cared not for him, if in reality she was mercenary, in spite of all, his love for her increased daily, as one loves when only twenty years of age, without reasoning, following merely the drawing of one’s heart, simply for the joy and the grief of loving. One morning he caught a glimpse of her for a moment, and realised that he could not give her up. Now she was his chosen one and no other. Whatever she might be, bad or good, ugly or pretty, poor or rich, he would give up his life rather than not be able to claim her. The third day his sufferings were so great that, notwithstanding all his wise resolves, he returned to the house of the embroiderers. After having rung the bell, he was received as before, downstairs by Hubert, who, on account of the want of clearness in his explanations in regard to his visit, concluded the best thing to be done was to allow him to go upstairs again. “My daughter, Monsieur, wishes to speak to you on certain points of the work that I do not quite understand.” Then Felicien stammered, “If it would not disturb Mademoiselle too much, I would like to see how far--These ladies advised me to personally superintend the work--that is, if by doing so I should not be in anyone’s way.” Angelique’s heart beat violently when she saw him come in. She almost choked, but, making a great effort, she controlled herself. The blood did not even mount her cheeks, and with an appearance of calm indifference, she replied: “Oh, nothing ever disturbs me, Monsieur. I can work equally well before anyone. As the design is yours, it is quite natural that you should wish to follow the execution of it.”