sed her also as she walked slowly through the crowd. She
fancied that she saw him growing impatient, looking at the clock,
opening the window, listening at the door, sitting down for a few
moments, getting up again, and not daring to smoke, as she had forbidden
him to do so when she was coming to him, and throwing despairing looks
at his box of cigarettes.

She walked slowly, interested in what she saw, the shops and the people
she met, walking slower and slower, and so little eager to get to her
destination that she only sought for some pretext for stopping, and at
the end of the street, in the little square, the verdure attracted her
so much, that she went in, took a chair, and, sitting down, watched the
hands of the clock as they moved.

Just then, the half hour struck, and her heart beat with pleasure when
she heard the chimes. She had gained half-an-hour; then it would take
her a quarter of an hour to reach the Rue Miromesnil, and a few minutes
more in strolling along--an hour! a whole hour saved from her
_rendez-vous_! She would not stop three-quarters of an hour, and that
business would be finished once more.

Oh! she disliked going there! Just like a patient going to the dentist,
so she had the intolerable recollection of all their past meetings, one
a week on an average, for the last two years; and the thought that
another was going to take place immediately made her shiver with misery
from head to foot. Not that it was exactly painful, like a visit to the
dentist, but it was wearisome, so wearisome, so complicated, so long, so
unpleasant, that anything, even a visit to the dentist would have seemed
preferable to her. She went on, however, but very slowly, stopping,
sitting down, going hither and thither, but she went. Oh! how she would
have liked to miss this meeting, but she had left the unhappy viscount
in the lurch, twice following, during the last month, and she did not
dare to do it again so soon. Why did she go to see him? Oh! why? Because
she had acquired the habit of doing it, and had no reason to give poor
Martelet when he wanted to know _the why_! Why had she begun it? Why?
She did not know herself, any longer. Had she been in love with him?
Very possibly! Not very much, but a little, a long time ago! He was very
nice, sought after, perfectly dressed, most courteous, and after the
first glance, he was a perfect lover for a fashionable woman. He had
courted her for three months--the normal period, a