The locomotive whistled and the
train moved slowly out of the station.

The young man leaned out of the carriage, and looked at the youthful
widow standing on the platform gazing after him. Just as she was
disappearing from his sight, he threw her a kiss, which she returned
with a more discreet wave of her hand.

CHAPTER IX.

MARRIAGE

Georges Duroy resumed his old habits. Installed in the cozy apartments
on Rue de Constantinople, his relations with Mme. de Marelle became
quite conjugal.

Mme. Forestier had not returned; she lingered at Cannes. He, however,
received a letter from her announcing her return about the middle of
April, but containing not a word as to their parting. He waited. He was
resolved to employ every means to marry her if she seemed to hesitate;
he had faith in his good fortune, in that power of attraction which he
felt within him--a power so irresistible that all women yielded to it.

At length a short note admonished him that the decisive moment had
arrived.

"I am in Paris. Come to see me."

"Madeleine Forestier."

Nothing more. He received it at nine o'clock. At three o'clock of the
same day he called at her house. She extended both hands to him with a
sweet smile, and they gazed into each other's eyes for several seconds,
then she murmured:

"How kind of you to come!"

He replied: "I should have come, whensoever you bade me."

They sat down; she inquired about the Walters, his associates, and the
newspaper.

"I miss that very much," said she. "I had become a journalist in
spirit. I like the profession." She paused. He fancied he saw in her
smile, in her voice, in her words, a kind of invitation, and although
he had resolved not to hasten matters, he stammered:

"Well--why--why do you not resume--that profession--under--the name of
Duroy?"

She became suddenly serious, and placing her hand on his arm, she said:
"Do not let us speak of that yet."

Divining that she would accept him, he fell upon his knees, and
passionately kissed her hands, saying:

"Thank you--thank you--how I love you."

She rose, she was very pale. Duroy kissed her brow. When she had
disengaged herself from his embrace, she said gravely: "Listen, my
friend, I have not yet fully decided; but my answer may be 'yes.' You
must wait patiently, however, until I disclose the secret to you."

He promised and left her, his heart overflowing with joy. He worked
steadily, spent little, tried to