."

"I know you have ruined her!"

He would have taken anything else, but that lie exasperated him. He
repeated: "Be silent--take care"--and he shook her as he would have
shaken the bough of a tree. Still she continued; "You were her ruin, I
know it." He rushed upon her and struck her as if she had been a man.
Suddenly she ceased speaking, and groaned beneath his blows. Finally he
desisted, paced the room several times in order to regain his
self-possession, entered the bedroom, filled the basin with cold water
and bathed his head. Then he washed his hands and returned to see what
Clotilde was doing. She had not moved. She lay upon the floor weeping
softly. He asked harshly:

"Will you soon have done crying?"

She did not reply. He stood in the center of the room, somewhat
embarrassed, somewhat ashamed, as he saw the form lying before him.
Suddenly he seized his hat. "Good evening. You can leave the key with
the janitor when you are ready. I will not await your pleasure."

He left the room, closed the door, sought the porter, and said to him:
"Madame is resting. She will go out soon. You can tell the proprietor
that I have given notice for the first of October."

His marriage was fixed for the twentieth; it was to take place at the
Madeleine. There had been a great deal of gossip about the entire
affair, and many different reports were circulated. Mme. Walter had
aged greatly; her hair was gray and she sought solace in religion.

In the early part of September "La Vie Francaise" announced that Baron
du Roy de Cantel had become its chief editor, M. Walter reserving the
title of manager. To that announcement were subjoined the names of the
staff of art and theatrical critics, political reporters, and so forth.
Journalists no longer sneered in speaking of "La Vie Francaise;" its
success had been rapid and complete. The marriage of its chief editor
was what was called a "Parisian event," Georges du Roy and the Walters
having occasioned much comment for some time.

The ceremony took place on a clear, autumn day. At ten o'clock the
curious began to assemble; at eleven o'clock, detachments of officers
came to disperse the crowd. Soon after, the first guests arrived; they
were followed by others, women in rich costumes, men, grave and
dignified. The church slowly began to fill. Norbert de Varenne espied
Jacques Rival, and joined him.

"Well," said he, "sharpers always succeed."

His companion, who was not envious, r