I believe he doubted me; perhaps waiters are bred to suspicion by the things they see. "Ah!" said he, "then it does not interest you to know that a gentleman has been to see the young lady?" I took out ten francs. "Yes, it does," said I, handing him the money. "Who was it?" "The Duke of Saint-Maclou," he whispered mysteriously. "Is he gone?" I asked in some alarm. I had no wish to encounter him. "This half-hour, sir." "Did he see both the ladies?" "No; only the young lady. Madame went out immediately on his arrival, and is not yet returned." "And mademoiselle?" "She is in her room." Thinking I had not got much, save good will, for my ten francs--for he told me nothing but what I had expected to hear--I was about to pass on, when he added, in a tone which seemed more significant than the question demanded: "Are you going up to your room, sir?" "I am," said I. "Permit me to show you the way," he said--though his escort seemed to me very unnecessary. He mounted before me. We reached the first floor. Opposite to us, not three yards away, was the door of the sitting-room which I knew to be occupied by the Delhasses. "Go on," said I. "In a moment, sir," he said. Then he held up his hand in the attitude of a man who listens. "One should not listen," he whispered, apologetically; "but it is so strange. I thought that if you knew the lady--Hark!" I knew that we ought not to listen. But the mystery of the fellow's manner and the concern of his air constrained me, and I too paused, listening. From behind the door there came to our strained attentive ears the sound of a woman sobbing. I sought the waiter's eyes; they were already bent on me. Again the sad sounds came--low, swift, and convulsive. It went to my heart to hear them. I did not know what to do. To go on upstairs to my own room and mind my own business seemed the simple thing--simple, easy, and proper. But my feet were glued to the boards. I could not go, with that sound beating on my ears: I should hear it all the day. I glanced again at the waiter. He was a kind-looking fellow, and I saw the tears standing in his eyes. "And mademoiselle is so beautiful!" he whispered. "What the devil business is it of yours?" said I, in a low but fierce tone. "None," said he. "I am content to leave it to you, sir;" and without more he turned and went downstairs. It was all very well to leave it to me; but what--failing that simple, easy, proper, and impossible course of action which I have indicated--was I to do? Well, what I did was this: I went to the door of the room and knocked softly. There was no answer. The sobs continued. I had been a brute to this girl in the morning; I thought of that as I stood outside. "My God! what's the matter with her?" I whispered. And then I opened the door softly. Marie Delhasse sat in a chair, her head resting in her hands and her hands on the table; and her body was shaken with her weeping.