and, was surveying the buildings, and seemed to be adding up
some figures on paper. La Valliere recognized Malicorne and nodded to
him; Malicorne, in his turn, replied by a formal bow, and disappeared
from the window. She was surprised at this marked coolness, so different
from his usual unfailing good-humor, but she remembered that he had lost
his appointment on her account, and that he could hardly be very amiably
disposed towards her, since, in all probability, she would never be in
a position to make him any recompense for what he had lost. She knew how
to forgive offenses, and with still more readiness could she sympathize
with misfortune. La Valliere would have asked Montalais her opinion, if
she had been within hearing, but she was absent, it being the hour
she commonly devoted to her own correspondence. Suddenly La Valliere
observed something thrown from the window where Malicorne had been
standing, pass across the open space which separated the iron bars, and
roll upon the floor. She advanced with no little curiosity towards this
object, and picked it up; it was a wooden reel for silk, only, in this
instance, instead of silk, a piece of paper was rolled round it. La
Valliere unrolled it and read as follows:

"MADEMOISELLE,--I am exceedingly anxious to learn two things: the first
is, to know if the flooring of your apartment is wood or brick; the
second, to ascertain at what distance your bed is placed from the
window. Forgive my importunity, and will you be good enough to send me
an answer by the same way you receive this letter--that is to say, by
means of the silk winder; only, instead of throwing into my room, as
I have thrown it into yours, which will be too difficult for you
to attempt, have the goodness merely to let it fall. Believe me,
mademoiselle, your most humble, most respectful servant,

"MALICORNE.

"Write the reply, if you please, upon the letter itself."

"Ah! poor fellow," exclaimed La Valliere, "he must have gone out of his
mind;" and she directed towards her correspondent--of whom she caught
but a faint glimpse, in consequence of the darkness of the room--a look
full of compassionate consideration. Malicorne understood her, and shook
his head, as if he meant to say, "No, no, I am not out of my mind; be
quite satisfied."

She smiled, as if still in doubt.

"No, no," he signified by a gesture, "my head is right," and pointed
to his head, then, after moving his hand like a man who writes