she hurried to see him in Paris the day after that actress
died. . . . Perhaps he has come to the rescue of his brother-in-law, and
happened to be behind our caleche at Mansle by accident. Lucien looked
at us very strangely that morning."

A crowd of thoughts crossed Louise's brain, and unluckily for her, she
continued to ponder visibly as she watched Lucien. He was talking with
the Bishop as if he were the king of the room; making no effort to find
any one out, waiting till others came to him, looking round about him
with varying expression, and as much at his ease as his model de Marsay.
M. de Senonches appeared at no great distance, but Lucien still stood
beside the prelate.

At the end of ten minutes Louise could contain herself no longer. She
rose and went over to the Bishop and said:

"What is being said, my lord, that you smile so often?"

Lucien drew back discreetly, and left Mme. du Chatelet with his
lordship.

"Ah! Mme. la Comtesse, what a clever young fellow he is! He was
explaining to me that he owed all he is to you----"

"_I_ am not ungrateful, madame," said Lucien, with a reproachful glance
that charmed the Countess.

"Let us have an understanding," she said, beckoning him with her fan.
"Come into the boudoir. My Lord Bishop, you shall judge between us."

"She has found a funny task for his lordship," said one of the Chandour
camp, sufficiently audibly.

"Judge between us!" repeated Lucien, looking from the prelate to the
lady; "then, is one of us in fault?"

Louise de Negrepelisse sat down on the sofa in the familiar boudoir. She
made the Bishop sit on one side and Lucien on the other, then she began
to speak. But Lucien, to the joy and surprise of his old love, honored
her with inattention; her words fell unheeded on his ears; he sat like
Pasta in _Tancredi_, with the words _O patria!_ upon her lips, the music
of the great cavatina _Dell Rizzo_ might have passed into his face.
Indeed, Coralie's pupil had contrived to bring the tears to his eyes.

"Oh! Louise, how I loved you!" he murmured, careless of the Bishop's
presence, heedless of the conversation, as soon as he knew that the
Countess had seen the tears.

"Dry your eyes, or you will ruin me here a second time," she said in an
aside that horrified the prelate.

"And once is enough," was Lucien's quick retort. "That speech from Mme.
d'Espard's cousin would dry the eyes of a weeping Magdalene. Oh me! for
a little moment old memories,