It was drizzling outside. The streets were shiny; in the narrow rue Richelieu, horses were slipping; they all trotted sidewise as if a strong wind were arching their croups. A few passers-by opened their umbrellas. Boerzell imitated them in order to protect Thérèse. He was bumped into at every step; the ends of the whalebones made lines against the grain of his silk hat. At times they were parted by a pressure from those who walked in opposite direction. Thérèse turned round, looking for the young savant; and she distinguished him, as he smiled over the heads of people, holding his umbrella as high as he could and shaking it to signal to her. They began to converse with some sequence only after they had passed the door of the Carrousel. As on the first evening, at the ball, the talk assumed at once a professional turn. But Boerzell it was who now directed the game. He led the conversation towards the notorieties of science; and he gave out his opinion of each of them, in insidious terms. Most of the time, it proved to be sarcastic and disrespectful. He withdrew in one word the commendation he had given in another, mingled restrictions and praise, stinging comments and soft words; even his voice, at once coaxing and clever, the smile of his lips or his eyes with which he softened every expression that was too bitter, his choice of expressions, the turn of his sentences--all these seemed to suggest a proud old master, but had the added zest of youth. Every now and then, Thérèse could not refrain from glancing at him. What! had he, then, out of calculation, concealed his strength on the evening of the dance; had he affected shyness in order to attract without scaring her? Had he wished to flatter her pride as a savante by allowing himself to be defeated and conquered by her? Or had he been troubled by the surroundings? Be that as it may, she was enjoying herself. This young man was not a fool, nor was he mediocre, nor yet servile. She listened so attentively that she did not notice that they had passed over the Seine. They climbed the rue des Saints Pères, where drivers of entangled carriages abused each other. At times an omnibus rocked noisily, and hit the stone curb with its trembling wheels. Mlle. Raindal and Boerzell huddled close to the shops. Then the terrible machine having passed them, they went on again. Now it was Boerzell who asked questions, inquiring of the girl's studies, and Mlle. Raindal readily answered, gave him the time-table of her work and the rules of her studies. When they turned the corner of the Boulevard St. Germain, Boerzell suddenly sighed: "What a pity!" he murmured. "What?" Thérèse asked. The drizzle had ceased and he closed his umbrella.