s a good riddance, he said, pacing the floor in the
firelight; but just then he glanced into the great mirror, and stood
fixed to mark the pallor of his face. Say what he might, laugh as he
did, with a hollow sound, that absent girl had stirred the very
fountains of his feelings. Not learned, not beautiful, not anything to
anybody but him--there was yet the difference between her love and her
deceit, which made him content or wretched.

He felt this so keenly that he lifted his voice and cursed--himself,
her, society, mankind. Then he cried like a child, and called himself a
calf, and laughed bitterly, and cried again.

There was no sleep for him that night. He drank brandy again in the
morning, and walked to the banker's. His remittance awaited him, and he
came out of the Rue de la Paix with thirty gold napoleons in his pocket.

He met all the Americans at breakfast at Trappe's in the Palais Royal,
and strolling to the morgue with a part of them, kept on to Vincennes,
and spent a wretched day in the forest. At the Place de la Bastille,
returning, he got into a cabriolet alone and searched ineffectually
along the Rue Rivoli for a companion who would ride with him. "Go
through the Rue de Beaux Arts!" he said, as they crossed Pont Neuf. This
is a quiet street in the Latin Quarter filled with cheap _pensions_, in
one of which dwelt Fanchette. His heart was wedged in his throat as he
saw at the window little Suzette sewing. She wore one of the dresses he
had given her. Her face was old and piteous; she was red-eyed and worked
wearily, looking into the street like one on a rainy day.

When she saw him, he thought, by her start and flush, that she was going
to fall from the chair; but then she looked with a dim, absent manner
into his face, like one who essays to remember something that was very
dear but is now quite strange. He was pleased to think that she was
miserable, and would have given much to have found her begging bread, as
she did that night of him.

He had ridden by on purpose to show that he had money, and she sent him
by Terrapin's word a petition for a few francs to buy her a chamber.
Fanchette's friend had come home from the country, and it would not do
for her to occupy their single bedroom; but Ralph made reply by deputy,
to the effect that the donor of the jewelry would, he supposed, give her
a room. It was a weary week ensuing; he drank spirits all the time, and
made love to an English governess in the