"I accept your invitation with pleasure, my dear Florence," Madame d'Infreville replied, after a moment's reflection. "Madame d'Infreville will dine with me," said Madame de Luceval, turning to her maid. "Give the servants to understand that I am at home to no one,--absolutely no one." "Yes, madame," replied Mlle. Lise, quitting the room. CHAPTER III. A CONFERENCE. We will leave the two ladies for a time and give our attention to M. de Luceval. This gentleman, as we have just learned through his message to his wife, did not intend to dine at home that day. The reason was this: He had, as we know, left Madame de Luceval in a towering rage. He was also firmly resolved to insist upon his rights, and to force her to submit to his will, as well as to his mania for travelling. He had gone only a few steps from his house before he was accosted by a rather distinguished looking man about forty-five years of age, whose worn and haggard features bore the lines and the impress of a premature old age. As M. de Luceval approached, this gentleman's stern, arrogant face took on an expression of formal courtesy, and, bowing with great politeness, he inquired: "Is it to M. de Luceval that I have the honour of speaking?" "Yes, monsieur." "I was on my way to your house to tender you both my apologies and my thanks." "Before accepting either, may I not at least know, monsieur--" "Who I am? Pardon me, monsieur, for not having told you sooner. I am M. d'Infreville, so my name is not unknown to you, I think." "We have several mutual friends, I think," replied M. de Luceval, "and I congratulate myself upon my good fortune in meeting you personally, monsieur. But we are only a short distance from my house, and if you will return with me--" "I could not think of giving you that trouble, monsieur. Besides, to tell the truth, I should be almost afraid to meet Madame de Luceval." "And why, monsieur?" "The fact is, I have wronged madame so deeply, monsieur, that I must beg you to make my excuses to her before I have the honour to be presented to her." "Pardon me," said Florence's husband, more and more mystified, "but I really do not understand--" "I will explain more clearly, monsieur. But we are almost at the Champs Élysées. If agreeable to you, suppose we have a little chat together as we walk along." "Certainly, if you prefer that." And M. de Luceval, who manifested the same energy in his walk that he did in everything else, began to stride along, accompanied, or rather followed, by M. d'Infreville, who found it extremely difficult to keep up with his more agile companion. Nevertheless, continuing the conversation, he said, in a rather panting fashion: "Just now, monsieur, when I had the honour to tell you my name, and to add that it was probably not unknown to you, you replied that we had mutual friends, and I--But pardon me, I have a favour to ask of you, monsieur," said M. d'Infreville, entirely out of breath now. "What is it, monsieur?"