n life, we can wave our hands in
recognition, but nothing further."

"So," said Sallenauve, sadly, "this is how it all ends!"

La Luigia looked at him a moment, her eyes shining with tears.

"Listen," she said in a resolute and sincere tone: "this is possible.
I have loved you, and after you, no one can enter the heart you have
despised. You will hear that I have lovers; believe it not; you will not
believe it, remembering the woman that I am. But who knows? Later your
life may be swept clean of the other sentiments that have stood in my
way; the freedom, the strangeness of the avowal I have just made to you
will remain in your memory, and then it is not impossible that
after this long rejection you may end by desiring me. If that should
happen,--if at the end of many sad deceptions you should return, in
sheer remorse, to the religion of art,--then, then, supposing that long
years have not made love ridiculous between us, remember this evening.
Now, let us part; it is already too late for a _tete-a-tete_."

So saying, she took a light and passed into an inner room, leaving
Sallenauve in a state of mind we can readily imagine after the various
shocks and surprises of this interview.

On returning to his hotel he found Jacques Bricheteau awaiting him.

"Where the devil have you been?" cried the organist, impatiently. "It is
too late now to take the steamboat."

"Well," said Sallenauve, carelessly, "then I shall have a few hours
longer to play truant."

"But during that time your enemies are tunnelling their mine."

"I don't care. In that cave called political life one has to be ready
for anything."

"I thought as much!" exclaimed Bricheteau. "You have been to see Luigia;
her success has turned your head, and the deputy is thinking of his
statues."

"How often have I heard you say yourself that Art alone is great?"

"But an orator," replied Bricheteau, "is also an artist, and the
greatest of all. Others speak to the heart and the mind, but he to the
conscience and the will of others. At any rate, this is no time to look
back; you are engaged in a duel with your adversaries. Are you an honest
man, or a scoundrel who has stolen a name? There is the question which
may, in consequence of your absence, be answered against you in the
Chamber."

"I begin to feel that you have led me into a mistaken path; I had in my
hands a treasure, and I have flung it away!"

"Happily," said the organist, "that's only an evenin