ses, the captain did the same,
not without remarking to himself that D'Harmental had left him the best
of the three. Then, as they were near a four-cross road, each one took
his own way at a gallop.

The Baron de Valef re-entered by the Barriere de Passy, and returned
straight to the arsenal to receive the commissions of the Duchesse de
Maine, to whose establishment he belonged, and left the same day for
Spain.

Captain Roquefinette made two or three tours round the Bois de Boulogne,
walking, trotting, and galloping, in order to appreciate the different
qualities of his horse; and having satisfied himself that it was, as
the chevalier had told him, a fine and pure-blooded animal, he returned
to Durand's hotel, where he ate, all alone, the breakfast which had been
ordered for three. The same day, he took his horse to a dealer and sold
it for sixty louis. It was about half what it was worth; but one must be
prepared to make sacrifices, if one wishes to realize promptly.

As to the Chevalier d'Harmental, he took the road to La Muette, entered
Paris by the great avenue of the Champs-Elysees, and on returning to his
home in the Rue de Richelieu, found two letters waiting for him. One of
these letters was in a handwriting so well known to him that he trembled
from head to foot as he looked at it, and after having taken it up with
as much hesitation as if it had been a burning coal, he opened it with a
hand whose shaking betrayed the importance he attached to it. It read as
follows:

"MY DEAR CHEVALIER--No one is master of his own
heart--you know that; and it is one of the misfortunes
of our nature not to be able to love the same person,
or the same thing, long at a time. As to myself, I wish
at least to have, beyond other women, the merit of
never deceiving the man who has been my lover. Do not
come, then, at your accustomed hour, for you will be
told that I am not at home; and I am so scrupulous that
I would not willingly endanger the soul even of a valet
or a waiting-maid by making them tell so great a lie.

"Adieu, my dear chevalier. Do not retain too unkind a
remembrance of me, and behave so that ten years hence I
may still think what I think now--that is to say, that
you are one of the noblest gentlemen in France.

"SOPHIE D'AVERNE."

"Mon Dieu!" cried D'Harmental, striking his fist on a beautiful buhl
table, which he smashed to bits, "i