“Don’t be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I thought of you, and I did not suffer. “To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling.” Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate and distinct tones,-- “The deuce! the deuce!” “That seems clear to you, doesn’t it?” said Jules. “Well, in the depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes itself heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of all agony until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall know all; I shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me then, Jacquet.” “I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o’clock. We will go together; I’ll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who’ll understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me.” “Even to help me in killing some one?” “The deuce! the deuce!” said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same musical note. “I have two children and a wife.” Jules pressed his friend’s hand and went away; but returned immediately. “I forgot the letter,” he said. “But that’s not all, I must reseal it.” “The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I’ll bring it to you _secundum scripturam_.” “At what time?” “Half-past five.” “If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up to madame.” “Do you want me to-morrow?” “No. Adieu.”