.' Will he not, M.
Norbert?"

The old poet, who had attained renown late in life, disliked and
mistrusted newcomers. He replied dryly: "Yes, excellent, provided that
it is written in the right key, for there lies the great difficulty."

Mme. Forestier cast upon Duroy a protecting and smiling glance which
seemed to say: "You shall succeed." The servant filled the glasses with
wine, and Forestier proposed the toast: "To the long prosperity of 'La
Vie Francaise.'" Duroy felt superhuman strength within him, infinite
hope, and invincible resolution. He was at his ease now among these
people; his eyes rested upon their faces with renewed assurance, and
for the first time he ventured to address his neighbor:

"You have the most beautiful earrings I have ever seen."

She turned toward him with a smile: "It is a fancy of mine to wear
diamonds like this, simply on a thread."

He murmured in reply, trembling at his audacity: "It is charming--but
the ear increases the beauty of the ornament."

She thanked him with a glance. As he turned his head, he met Mme.
Forestier's eyes, in which he fancied he saw a mingled expression of
gaiety, malice, and encouragement. All the men were talking at the same
time; their discussion was animated.

When the party left the dining-room, Duroy offered his arm to the
little girl. She thanked him gravely and stood upon tiptoe in order to
lay her hand upon his arm. Upon entering the drawing-room, the young
man carefully surveyed it. It was not a large room; but there were no
bright colors, and one felt at ease; it was restful. The walls were
draped with violet hangings covered with tiny embroidered flowers of
yellow silk. The portieres were of a grayish blue and the chairs were
of all shapes, of all sizes; scattered about the room were couches and
large and small easy-chairs, all covered with Louis XVI. brocade, or
Utrecht velvet, a cream colored ground with garnet flowers.

"Do you take coffee, M. Duroy?" Mme. Forestier offered him a cup, with
the smile that was always upon her lips.

"Yes, Madame, thank you." He took the cup, and as he did so, the young
woman whispered to him: "Pay Mme. Walter some attention." Then she
vanished before he could reply.

First he drank his coffee, which he feared he should let fall upon the
carpet; then he sought a pretext for approaching the manager's wife and
commencing a conversation. Suddenly he perceived that she held an empty
cup in her hand, and as sh