, the
young ladies were occupied with a drawing lesson, and Boniface was at
his office, so that he saw no one but his hostess. The conversation fell
naturally on the order and neatness of his room during his absence; from
this the transition was easy to the question if the opposite lodging had
changed tenants. Madame Denis replied that she had seen Bathilde at the
window the morning before; and that in the evening her son had met Buvat
returning from his office, but had noticed in him a singular air of
pride and hauteur. This was all D'Harmental wished to know. Bathilde was
in Paris, and at home; chance had not yet directed her looks toward that
window so long closed, and that room so long empty. He took leave of
Madame Denis with an effusion of gratitude which she was far from
attributing to its true cause; and on the landing he met the Abbe
Brigaud, who was coming to pay his daily visit to Madame Denis.

The abbe asked if he was going home, and promised to pay him a visit. On
entering his room D'Harmental went straight to the window. Nothing was
changed; it was evidently a plan, and he resolved to employ the last
means which he had reserved. He sat down to the piano, and after a
brilliant prelude sang the air of the cantata of Night which he had
heard the evening before, and of which he had retained every note in his
memory. Meanwhile he did not lose sight for an instant of the
inexorable window; but there was no sign. The opposite room had no echo.

But D'Harmental had produced an effect which he did not expect. Hearing
applause, he turned round, and saw the Abbe Brigaud behind him.

"Ah! it is you, abbe?" said D'Harmental; "I did not know that you were
so great a lover of music."

"Nor you so good a musician. Peste! my dear pupil, an air you only heard
once. It is wonderful."

"I thought it very beautiful, abbe, and as I have a very good memory for
sounds, I retained it."

"And then it was so admirably sung. Was it not?"

"Yes," said D'Harmental; "Mademoiselle Berry has an exquisite voice, and
the first time she sings I shall go incognito to the opera."

"Is it that voice you want to hear?" asked Brigaud.----"Yes."

"Then you must not go to the opera for that."

"And where must I go?"

"Nowhere. Stay here. You are in the boxes."

"What! The Goddess of Night?"

"Is your neighbor."

"Bathilde!" cried D'Harmental. "Then I was not deceived; I recognized
her. But it is impossible! How could she have been