om of the marriage gifts."

"You speak of Mademoiselle Kayser as you would speak of a courtesan,"
said the duke, in a choking voice.

"Ah! I give you my word," said Lissac, "that I should speak very
differently of Mademoiselle Alice Aubry, or of Mademoiselle Cora
Touchard. I would say to you quite frankly: They are pretty creatures;
there is no danger."

"And Marianne, on the contrary, is dangerous."

"Oh! perfectly, for you."

"And why is she not dangerous for you?"

"Why, simply, my dear duke, because I am satisfied to love her as you
have hitherto done and because I had, as I told you, the good fortune
not to be her lover."

"But you brought her to Madame Marsy's this evening?"

"Oh! her uncle accompanied us, but I was there."

"You offer your arm then to a woman whom, as you have just told me, you
consider dangerous?"

"Not for Sabine!--and then, that is a drop of the absinthe, a little of
the hasheesh of which I spoke to you. One sees only concessions in
Paris, and even when one is dead, one needs a further concession, but in
perpetuity. One only becomes one's self"--and Guy's jesting tone became
serious,--"when a worthy fellow like you puts one a question that seems
terribly like asking advice. Then one answers him, as I have just
answered you, and cries out to him: 'Beware!'"

"I thank you," said Rosas, suddenly stopping short on the pavement. "You
treat me like a true friend."

"And if I seem to you to be too severe," added Lissac, smiling, "charge
that to the account of bitterness. A man that has loved a woman is never
altogether just toward her. If he has ceased to love her, he slights
her, if he still loves her, he slanders her. I have perhaps, traduced
Marianne, but I have not slighted you, that is certain. Now, take
advantage of this gossip. But when?"

"I don't know," replied the duke. "I will write you. I shall perhaps
leave Paris!"

"What is that?"

"Just what I say."

"The deuce!" said Lissac. "Do you know that if you were to fly from the
danger in question, I should be very uneasy? It would be very serious."

"That would not be a flight. At the most, a caprice," the duke replied.

They separated, less pleased with each other than they were at the
commencement of their interview. Lissac felt that in some fashion or
other, he had wounded Rosas even in adopting the flippant tone of the
lounger, without any malice, and the Spaniard with his somewhat morose
nature, retired within him