I looked
about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be. One
morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, 'You are the
man she loves, my dear friend!'--And I was the man--I was the man! Bless
my soul! Whoever would have suspected such a thing? And to think that
in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune--a
partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie--Oh!"

At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple
whirled into the small salon. They were Risler's bride and his partner,
Georges Fromont. Equally young and attractive, they were talking in
undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.

"You lie!" said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.

And the other, paler than she, replied:

"I do not lie. It was my uncle who insisted upon this marriage. He was
dying--you had gone away. I dared not say no."

Risler, at a distance, gazed at them in admiration.

"How pretty she is! How well they dance!"

But, when they spied him, the dancers separated, and Sidonie walked
quickly to him.

"What! You here? What are you doing? They are looking everywhere for
you. Why aren't you in there?"

As she spoke she retied his cravat with a pretty, impatient gesture.
That enchanted Risler, who smiled at Sigismond from the corner of his
eye, too overjoyed at feeling the touch of that little gloved hand on
his neck, to notice that she was trembling to the ends of her slender
fingers.

"Give me your arm," she said to him, and they returned together to the
salons. The white bridal gown with its long train made the badly cut,
awkwardly worn black coat appear even more uncouth; but a coat can
not be retied like a cravat; she must needs take it as it was. As they
passed along, returning the salutations of all the guests who were so
eager to smile upon them, Sidonie had a momentary thrill of pride, of
satisfied vanity. Unhappily it did not last. In a corner of the room
sat a young and attractive woman whom nobody invited to dance, but who
looked on at the dances with a placid eye, illumined by all the joy of
a first maternity. As soon as he saw her, Risler walked straight to the
corner where she sat and compelled Sidonie to sit beside her. Needless
to say that it was Madame "Chorche." To whom else would he have spoken
with such affectionate respect? In what other hand than hers could he
have placed his little S