At that moment the bell rang, and a tall man was shown in. He was dark, with a thick beard, and looked like a modern Hercules. We were introduced to each other; his name was Lucien Delabarre. Rene and he shook hands in a most friendly manner, and then we went to dinner. It was a most enjoyable meal, without the least constraint. My old friend spoke with me constantly, in the old familiar cordial manner, just as he used to do. It was: "You know, old fellow!"--"I say, old fellow!"--"Just listen a moment, old fellow!" Suddenly he exclaimed: "You don't know how glad I am to see you again; it takes me back to old times." I looked at his wife and the other man. Their attitude was perfectly correct, though I fancied once or twice that they exchanged a rapid and furtive look. As soon as dinner was over Rene turned to his wife, and said: "My dear, I have just met Pierre again, and I am going to carry him off for a walk and a chat along the boulevards to remind us of old times. I am leaving you in very good company." The young woman smiled, and said to me, as she shook hands with me: "Don't keep him too long." As we went along, arm-in-arm, I could not help saying to him, for I was determined to know how matters stood: "I say, what has happened? Do tell me!" He, however, interrupted me roughly, and answered like a man who has been disturbed without any reason. "Just look here, old fellow leave one alone with your questions." Then he added, half aloud, as if talking to himself: "After all, it would have been too stupid to have let oneself go to pot like that." I did not press him. We walked on quickly and began to talk. All of a sudden he whispered in my ear: "I say, suppose we go and have a bottle of 'fizz' with some girls! Eh?" I could not prevent myself from laughing heartily. "Just as you like; come along, let us go." ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR! The four glasses which were standing in front of the diners were now still nearly half full, which is a sign, as a general rule, that the guests are quite so. They were beginning to speak without waiting for an answer; no one took any notice of anything except what was going on inside him, either in his mind or stomach; voices grew louder, gestures more animated, eyes brighter. It was a bachelors' dinner of confirmed old bachelors. They had instituted this regular banquet twenty years before, christening it "The Celibate," and at the time there were fourteen of them, all fully determined never to marry. Now there were only four of them left; three were dead and the other seven were married.