ped of its leaves, appeared for the time fit only for an
immense poultry cage. As there was nothing to be seen but a monotonous
series of roofs and chimneys, D'Harmental closed his window, sat down in
an armchair, put his feet on the hobs, took up a volume by the Abbe
Chaulieu, and began to read the verses addressed to Mademoiselle de
Launay, which had a double interest for him, since he knew the heroine.

The result of this reading was that the chevalier, while smiling at the
octogenarian love of the good abbe, discovered that he, less fortunate,
had his heart perfectly unoccupied. For a short time he had thought he
had loved Madame d'Averne, and had been loved by her; but on her part
this deep affection did not withstand the offer of some jewels from the
regent, and the vanity of pleasing him.

Before this infidelity had occurred, the chevalier thought that it would
have driven him to despair. It had occurred, and he had fought, because
at that time men fought about everything which arose, probably from
dueling being so strictly forbidden. Then he began to perceive how small
a place this love had held in his heart. A real despair would not have
allowed him to seek amusement at the bal-masque, in which case the
exciting events of the last few days would not have happened.

The result of this was, that the chevalier remained convinced that he
was incapable of a deep love, and that he was only destined for those
charming wickednesses so much in vogue. He got up, and began to walk up
and down his room; while thus employed he perceived that the window
opposite was now wide open. He stopped mechanically, drew back his
curtain, and began to investigate the room thus exposed.

It was to all appearance occupied by a woman. Near the window, on which
a charming little Italian greyhound rested her delicate paws, was an
embroidery frame. Opposite the window was an open harpsichord between
two music stands, some crayon drawings, framed in black wood with a gold
bead, were hung on the walls, which were covered with a Persian paper.
Curtains of Indian chintz, of the same pattern as the paper, hung behind
the muslin curtains. Through a second window, half open, he could see
the curtains of a recess which probably contained a bed. The rest of the
furniture was perfectly simple, but almost elegant, which was due
evidently, not to the fortune, but to the taste of the modest
inhabitant.

An old woman was sweeping, dusting, and arrangi