re at least I was alone--alone with my gloomy
thoughts. My heart was full of wrath against the woman who had so
basely tricked me, and I viewed with dismay amounting almost to
despair the prospect of spending the rest of my life in her company.
That night I slept but little, nor yet the following night, or the
night after that. Those days I spent in seclusion, thankful for my
solitude.

Twice each day did Mlle. Goldberg come to my lodgings. In the foolish
past I had somewhat injudiciously acquainted her of where I lived. Now
she came and asked to be allowed to see me, but invariably did I
refuse thus to gratify her. I felt that time alone would perhaps
soften my feelings a little towards her. In the meanwhile I must
commend her discretion and delicacy of procedure. She did not in any
way attempt to molest me. When she was told by Theodore--whom I
employed during the day to guard me against unwelcome visitors--that I
refused to see her, she invariably went away without demur, nor did
she refer in any way, either with adjurations or threats, to the
impending wedding. Indeed, Sir, she was a lady of vast discretion.

On the third day, however, I received a visit from M. Goldberg
himself. I could not refuse to see him. Indeed, he would not be
denied, but roughly pushed Theodore aside, who tried to hinder him. He
had come armed with a riding-whip, and nothing but mine own innate
dignity saved me from outrage. He came, Sir, with a marriage licence
for his sister and me in one pocket and with a denunciation to the
police against me for abduction in another. He gave me the choice.
What could I do, Sir? I was like a helpless babe in the hands of
unscrupulous brigands!

The marriage licence was for the following day--at the mairie of the
eighth arrondissement first, and in the synagogue of the Rue des
Halles afterwards. I chose the marriage licence. What could I do, Sir?
I was helpless!

Of my wedding day I have but a dim recollection. It was all hustle and
bustle; from the mairie to the synagogue, and thence to the house of
M. Goldberg in the Rue des Medecins. I must say that the old usurer
received me and my bride with marked amiability. He was, I gathered,
genuinely pleased that his sister had found happiness and a home by
the side of an honourable man, seeing that he himself was on the point
of contracting a fresh alliance with a Jewish lady of unsurpassed
loveliness.

Of Rochez and Leah we saw nothing that day, and fro