e told you that I do not see her."--"Never?"--"Never!"

"Not even at her window?"

"Not even at her window!"

"We must put an end to that. Do you think she has a lover?"

"I have never seen any one enter her house, except the Remy of whom I
spoke to you."

"Take the house opposite."

"It may not be to let."

"Bah! offer double the rent!"

"But if she sees me there, she will disappear as before."

"You shall see her this evening."

"I!"

"Yes! Be under her balcony at eight o'clock."

"I am always there."

"Well, give me the address."

"Between the Porte Bussy and the Hotel St. Denis, near the corner of the
Rue des Augustins, and a few steps from a large inn, having for a sign,
'The Sword of the Brave Chevalier.'"

"Very well, then; this evening at eight o'clock."

"But what do you intend to do?"

"You shall see: meanwhile, go home; put on your richest dress, and use
your finest perfume, and I hope that you will enter the house to-night."

"May you be a true prophet, brother!"

"Well! I leave you for the present, for my lady-love waits for me: and I
confess, that after your account, I prefer her to yours. Adieu! Henri,
till the evening."

The brothers then pressed each other's hands, and separated.

CHAPTER VII.

"THE SWORD OF THE BRAVE CHEVALIER."

During the conversation we have just related, night had begun to fall,
enveloping the city with its damp mantle of fog.

Salcede dead, all the spectators were ready to leave the Place de Greve,
and the streets were filled with people, hurrying toward their homes.
Near the Porte Bussy, where we must now transport our readers, to follow
some of their acquaintances, and to make new ones, a hum, like that in a
bee-hive at sunset, was heard proceeding from a house tinted rose color,
and ornamented with blue and white pointings, which was known by the
sign of "The Sword of the Brave Chevalier," and which was an immense
inn, recently built in this new quarter. This house was decorated to
suit all tastes. On the entablature was painted a representation of a
combat between an archangel and a dragon breathing flame and smoke, and
in which the artist, animated by sentiments at once heroic and pious,
had depicted in the hands of "the brave chevalier," not a sword, but an
immense cross, with which he hacked in pieces the unlucky dragon, of
which the bleeding pieces were seen lying on the ground. At the bottom
of the picture crowds of spectators were