ou are!" said the Countess. "Why, we see each other almost
every day."

He begged her to devise a plan whereby she might breakfast with him, in
some suburb of Paris, as she had already done four or five times.

The Countess was astonished at his caprice, so difficult to realize now
that her daughter had returned. She assured him that she would try to
do it as soon as her husband should go to Ronces; but that it would be
impossible before the varnishing-day reception, which would take place
the following Saturday.

"And until then when shall I see you?" he asked.

"To-morrow evening at the Corbelles'. Come over here Thursday, at three
o'clock, if you are free; and I believe that we are to dine together
with the Duchess on Friday."

"Yes, exactly."

He arose.

"Good-by!"

"Good-by, my friend."

He remained standing, unable to decide to go, for he had said almost
nothing of all that he had come to say, and his mind was still full of
unsaid things, his heart still swelled with vague desires which he could
not express.

"Good-bye!" he repeated, taking her hands.

"Good-by, my friend!"

"I love you!"

She gave him one of those smiles with which a woman shows a man, in a
single instant, all that she has given him.

With a throbbing heart he repeated for the third time, "Good-by!" and
departed.

CHAPTER IV

A DOUBLE JEALOUSY

One would have said that all the carriages in Paris were making a
pilgrimage to the Palais de l'Industrie that day. As early as nine
o'clock in the morning they began to drive, by way of all streets,
avenues, and bridges, toward that hall of the fine arts where all
artistic Paris invites all fashionable Paris to be present at the
pretended varnishing of three thousand four hundred pictures.

A long procession of visitors pressed through the doors, and, disdaining
the exhibition of sculpture, hastened upstairs to the picture gallery.
Even while mounting the steps they raised their eyes to the canvases
displayed on the walls of the staircase, where they hang the special
category of decorative painters who have sent canvases of unusual
proportions or works that the committee dare not refuse.

In the square salon a great crowd surged and rustled. The artists,
who were in evidence until evening, were easily recognized by their
activity, the sonorousness of their voices, and the authority of their
gestures. They drew their friends by the sleeve toward the pictures,
which they poin