But I felt more than an abstract discomfort at my discoveries. Le Brun's name had been mixed up with Esther Raymond's by this Gray. Now his Cuba cigar had bound me indissolubly to The Brown, and as long as he asked nothing but what cost nothing, I was his faithful well-wisher and friend. This was the time to show my friendship; and accordingly I sprang from my couch, put Shelley into my pocket, and resumed my ascent of the Côte. I had gained the top, and, after looking across the water to Harfleur, which showed well in the soft light of the westering sun, was about to walk on, when I saw a party on the rude bench which is set on the seaward side of the top of the Côte--Le Brun with them. I looked back across the Seine, and watched the lights and shades shift on the hills of the opposite shore, collecting my thoughts the while. Ere they were collected, however, he joined me. "Ah! but madame is no longer with monsieur?" he said. "No; she's at home now," I answered, thinking how I should best break ground, and almost inclined to leave him to his own courses now that it was time to act. Why should I meddle in these foreigners' affairs? What were they to me? I felt thus for a moment; Le Brun produced his cigar-case, and I did not feel so for another. "I hope you liked my cigar; it is not French," he said. "Will you try another?" "If you will try one of mine," I answered, ashamed to take without giving, and forgetting that my property consisted of none but the despised French article. The young gentleman took one of the great clown-like regalias with a slight shudder, and I saw him wince as he inhaled a mouthful of its rank produce, and, ere long, quietly drop the thing when he thought I was not looking, and substitute one of his own. The flavor of his Cuba opened my heart to him, and ere long I broached the subject with which I had no earthly business. "You know a certain M. Gray?" I asked. He started. "Yes," he said; "that is him talking to mademoiselle. Shall I introduce you?" "Not at present--no, I thank you," I answered. He looked up at me. "Do you know him?" he asked. My eye had been bent on him for the last few seconds. "I think I do," I said; "I am not sure." "He came here with the Dowlasses; he is the son of an English milord, who allows him a thousand pounds a year." "Why did he leave England, then?" I inquired. "He was too gay, I believe." "And left his debts unpaid, I suppose." He looked up at me again. "If you do know him, or anything about him," he exclaimed, "pray tell me; I am particularly anxious about him." "I know you must be, and so ought mademoiselle to be," I said. He blushed like a girl and was going to speak, but I continued: "If he is the man I think, never play at cards with him, M. le Brun; and, between us, separate his hat from those pink ribbons further than they are now." His curiosity, his anxiety, was thoroughly aroused; but, as he began to speak, a lady's voice called him. It was Esther's.