isit France?
Certain it is, however, that he was at home on the boulevard, and that
he knew well the streets that led to the places where Paris amuses
itself; but he had no thoughts now for amusements. Notwithstanding the
fact that his purse was full, he proposed to live a retired and austere
life. He found suitable apartments in one of the lodging-houses of Rue
Mont-Thabor. These apartments, on the fifth floor, were pleasant but
modest; they consisted of two rooms having a view of the chestnut-trees
in the garden of the Tuileries. The portress was a nice woman, whose
good-will Count Abel gained on the very first day. He considered
it useful, in the affairs of this world, to be at peace with both
conscience and portress.

After getting installed in his garret his first care was to write to M.
Moses Guldenthal. He informed him that he was ready to refund interest
and capital, and he commissioned him to pay off some trifling debts that
he had left in Vienna; he also desired him to send him the bracelet,
which he hoped to make use of. He felt a genuine relief in the
thought that he owed no man anything, that his condition was clear and
transparent. When a man is proud he likes to be out of debt, and when he
is clever he foresees all possible contingencies. His second care was to
go to the Passage de l'Opera and buy a bouquet for sixty francs, which
he carried to No. 27 Rue Mouffetard. He had one of those memories that
retain everything and let nothing escape them. This bouquet--the most
beautiful Mlle. Galet ever had received--caused her great astonishment.
She did not know to whom to attribute it, the modest donor having
escaped from the effusions of her gratitude by not making himself known.
She supposed that Mlle. Moriaz had sent it to her, and, as she had taste
for composition, she wrote to her a four page letter of thanks.

Count Abel had not forgotten that he was the bearer of a commission from
Mlle Moriaz. A few days after his arrival, he decided to go to Maisons,
but to take the longest route there; he wanted to see Cormeilles in
passing, and a certain villa in which he was particularly interested.
He went in the Argenteuil cars, got out at Sannois, climbed that pretty
hill that commands the loveliest of views, and stopped at the inn
of Trouillet mills in order to breakfast there. The morning was
charming--it was in the middle of August--and the approach of autumn
was already felt, which enhances the beauty of all