"Ah! there he is!" cried Virginie; "don't tell him I'm here, Bertrand, do you hear? I want to surprise him. Shut the door of the salon." "Very well, mademoiselle; but I have an idea that it isn't monsieur; I didn't recognize his ring." Having closed the door of the salon, Bertrand opened the one leading to the hall; whereupon, instead of Auguste, he saw the pretty neighbor of the third floor to whom he had restored the poodle. The pretty neighbor was a blonde, with blue eyes and a pink complexion; her voice was low and sweet, her manners and her bearing savored of affectation; but she was pretty, and her natural charms won forgiveness for those which she tried to impart to herself. "Isn't my little Lozor in your rooms, Monsieur Bertrand?" asked the young blonde in an undertone, with a furtive glance about the apartment. "I have not had the honor to see him, madame," replied Bertrand, still holding the door only partly open; which fact did not prevent the neighbor from stepping farther into the room. "That is strange; he went out this morning; my maid is at market, and I hoped to find him here." "If the deserter appears, madame, I shall have the pleasure of bringing him back to you at once." "Poor Lozor! I am really anxious about him." And the neighbor, advancing step by step, found herself in the centre of the reception room, while Bertrand still held the door ajar, hoping thus to induce her to go away. "Monsieur Dalville went out last night in full dress, didn't he, Monsieur Bertrand?" "Yes, madame." "I happened to be at my window and I saw him. I would have liked to say a word to him, to ask him for a book that he promised to let me have to-day. But he went away so fast! If it wasn't so early, I would ask him to be kind enough to give it to me now. But that would disturb him perhaps?" The neighbor seemed to await a reply, but Bertrand kept silent and contented himself with swinging the door back and forth. "Is Monsieur Dalville still in bed?" inquired the pretty blonde at last, bestowing upon the ex-corporal a glance as tender as her voice was sweet. He was about to reply when the door of the small salon was abruptly thrown open, and disclosed Virginie, who came forward with an air of deliberation, saying: "Well! is it coming off to-day, Bertrand? Are we playing hide-and-seek?" When Virginie appeared, Bertrand closed the hall door and sat down, muttering between his teeth: "Fight it out; it's none of my business." At sight of Mademoiselle Virginie, the neighbor turned a little pinker than she was, and her eyes lost their usual soft expression. Virginie, for her part, scrutinized the neighbor from top to toe, contracting her dark eyebrows, and allowing a scornful smile to play about her lips. Bertrand alone seemed unmoved; and while the two ladies eyed each other from head to foot, he calmly swallowed a glass of wine, to wash down his Roquefort.