talking downstairs, I was
working in my studio upstairs, which communicated with the shop by a
winding staircase. I could hear their voices, their laughter, and their
discussions, and sometimes I left off writing in order to listen. I kept
in my own room to write a novel--which I never finished.

"The most regular frequenters of the shop were Monsieur Montina, a man
of good private means, a tall, handsome man, like one meets with in the
South of France, with an olive skin, and dark, expressive eyes; Monsieur
Barbet, a magistrate; two merchants, who were partners, Messrs. Faucil
and Labarregue, and General, the Marquis de la Fleche, the head of the
Royalist party, the principal man in the whole district, an old fellow
of sixty-six.

"My business prospered, and I was happy, very happy. One day, however,
about three o'clock, when I was out on business, as I was going through
the _Rue Saint Ferreol_, I suddenly saw a woman come out of a house,
whose figure and appearance were so much like my wife's that I should
have said to myself: 'There she is!' if I had not left her in the shop
half an hour before, suffering from a headache. She was walking quickly
on before me, without turning round, and, in spite of myself, I followed
her, as I felt surprised and uneasy. I said to myself: 'It it she; no,
it is quite impossible, as she has a sick headache. And then, what could
she have to do in that house?' However, as I wished to have the matter
cleared up, I made haste after her. I do not know whether she felt or
guessed that I was behind her, or whether she recognized my step, but
she turned round suddenly. It was she! When she saw me, she grew very
red and stopped, and then, with a smile, she said: 'Oh! Here you are!' I
felt choking.

"'Yes; so you have come out? And how is your headache?'

"'It is better, and I have been out on an errand.'

"'Where?'

"'To Lacaussade's, in the Rue Cassinelli, to order some pencils,'

"She looked me full in the face. She was not flushed now, but rather
pale, on the contrary. Her clear, limpid eyes--ah! those women's
eyes!--appeared to be full of truth, but I felt vaguely and painfuly
that they were full of lies. I was much more confused and embarrassed
than she was herself, without venturing to suspect, but sure that she
was lying, though I did not know why, and so I merely said:

"'You were quite right to go out, if you felt better.'

"'Oh! yes; my head is much better.'

"'Are you goin