sed. Did
he think of going? Madame Vantrasson feared so, and turning eagerly
to her husband, she exclaimed: "Run to the tobacco shop in the Rue de
Levis; you will find some paper there!"

He started off at once, and M. Fortunat breathed freely again. He had
certainly retained his composure admirably during the interview, but
more than once he had fancied that Vantrasson was about to spring on
him, crush him with his brawny hands, tear the note from him, burn it,
and then throw him, Fortunat, out into the street, helpless and nearly
dead. But now that danger had passed and Madame Vantrasson, fearing he
might tire of waiting, was prodigal in her attentions. She brought
him the only unbroken chair in the establishment, and insisted that he
should partake of some refreshment--a glass of wine at the very least.
While rummaging among the bottles, she alternately thanked him and
complained, declaring she had a right to repine, since she had known
better days--but fate had been against her ever since her marriage,
though she had little thought she would end her days in such misery,
after having been so happy in the Count de Chalusse's household many
years before.

To all appearance, M. Fortunat listened with the mere superficial
interest which ordinary politeness requires one to show, but in reality
his heart was filled with intense delight. Coming here without any
clearly-defined plan, circumstances had served him a thousand times
better than he could reasonably have hoped. He had preserved his
power over the Vantrassons, had won their confidence, had succeeded
in obtaining a tete-a-tete with the wife, and to crown all, this woman
alluded, of her own accord, to the very subject upon which he was
longing to question her.

"Ah! if I were only back in the Count's household again," she exclaimed.
"Six hundred francs a year, and gifts worth double that amount. Those
were good times for me. But you know how it is--one is never content
with one's lot, and then the heart is weak----"

She had not succeeded in finding the sweet wine which she proposed to
her guest; so in its place she substituted a mixture of ratafia and
brandy in two large glasses which she placed upon the counter. "One
evening, to my sorrow," she resumed, "I met Vantrasson at a ball. It was
the 13th day of the month. I might have known no good would come of it.
Ah, you should have seen him at that time, in full uniform. He belonged
to the Paris Guards then. All