areful, some one might come in."

He whispered: "When can I see you alone to tell you how I love you?"

She leaned toward him and said softly: "I will pay you a visit one of
these days."

He colored. "My rooms--are--are--very modest."

She smiled: "That makes no difference. I shall come to see you and not
your rooms."

He urged her to tell him when she would come. She fixed a day in the
following week, while he besought her with glowing eyes to hasten the
day. She was amused to see him implore so ardently and yielded a day at
a time. He repeated: "To-morrow, say--to-morrow." Finally she
consented. "Yes, to-morrow at five o'clock."

He drew a deep breath; then they chatted together as calmly as if they
had known one another for twenty years. A ring caused them to start;
they separated. She murmured: "It is Laurine."

The child entered, paused in surprise, then ran toward Duroy clapping
her hands, delighted to see him, and crying: "Ah, 'Bel-Ami!'"

Mme. de Marelle laughed. "Bel-Ami! Laurine has christened you. It is a
pretty name. I shall call you Bel-Ami, too!"

He took the child upon his knee. At twenty minutes of three he rose to
go to the office; at the half-open door he whispered: "To-morrow, five
o'clock." The young woman replied: "Yes," with a smile and disappeared.

After he had finished his journalistic work, he tried to render his
apartments more fit to receive his expected visitor. He was well
satisfied with the results of his efforts and retired, lulled to rest
by the whistling of the trains. Early the next morning he bought a cake
and a bottle of Madeira. He spread the collation on his dressing-table
which was covered with a napkin. Then he waited. She came at a quarter
past five and exclaimed as she entered: "Why, it is nice here. But
there were a great many people on the stairs."

He took her in his arms and kissed her hair. An hour and a half later
he escorted her to a cab-stand on the Rue de Rome. When she was seated
in the cab, he whispered: "Tuesday, at the same hour."

She repeated his words, and as it was night, she kissed him. Then as
the cabman started up his horse, she cried: "Adieu, Bel-Ami!" and the
old coupe rumbled off.

For three weeks Duroy received Mme. de Marelle every two or three days,
sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening.

As he was awaiting her one afternoon, a noise on the staircase drew him
to his door. A child screamed. A man's angry voice cried: "What i