Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri, who was going on first, still without speaking, by the girl's side, and at last they got back to Bezons. Monsieur Dufour, who had got sober, was waiting for them very impatiently, while the young man with the yellow hair, was having a mouthful of something to eat, before leaving the inn. The carriage was in the yard, with the horse in, and the grandmother, who had already got in, was very frightened at the thought of being overtaken by night, before they got back to Paris, as the outskirts were not safe. They shook hands, and the Dufour family drove off. "Good-bye, until we meet again!" the oarsman cried, and the answer they got was a sigh and a tear. * * * * * Two months later, as Henri was going along the _Rue des Martyrs_, he saw _Dufour, Ironmonger_ over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout lady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, and after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all. "And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired, specially. "Very well, thank you; she is married." "Ah!" ... But mastering his feelings, he added: "Whom was she married to?" "To that young man who went with us, you know, he has joined us in business." "I remember him, perfectly." He was going out, feeling very unhappy, though scarcely knowing why, when Madame called him back. "And how is your friend?" she asked, rather shyly. "He is very well, thank you." "Please give him our compliments, and beg him to come and call, when he is in the neighborhood." She then added: "Tell him it will give me great pleasure." "I will be sure to do so. Adieu!" "I will not say that; come again, very soon." * * * * * The next year, one very hot Sunday, all the details of that adventure which he had never forgotten, suddenly came back to him so clearly, that he returned to their room in the wood, and he was overwhelmed with astonishment when he went in. She was sitting on the grass, looking very sad, while by her side, again in his shirt sleeves the young man with the yellow hair was sleeping soundly, like some brute. She grew so pale when she saw Henri, that at first he thought she was going to faint, then, however, they began to talk quite naturally. But when he told her that he was very fond of that spot, and went there very often on Sundays, she looked into his eyes for a long time. "I, too, think of it," she replied. "Come, my dear," her husband said, with a yawn; "I think it is time for us to be going." THE LANCER'S WIFE I