ther's house.

The first was a note from M. Dambreuse, containing an invitation to
dinner for the previous Tuesday. What was the occasion of this
politeness? So, then, they had forgiven his prank.

The second was from Rosanette. She thanked him for having risked his
life on her behalf. Frederick did not at first understand what she
meant; finally, after a considerable amount of circumlocution, while
appealing to his friendship, relying on his delicacy, as she put it, and
going on her knees to him on account of the pressing necessity of the
case, as she wanted bread, she asked him for a loan of five hundred
francs. He at once made up his mind to supply her with the amount.

The third letter, which was from Deslauriers, spoke of the letter of
attorney, and was long and obscure. The advocate had not yet taken any
definite action. He urged his friend not to disturb himself: "'Tis
useless for you to come back!" even laying singular stress on this
point.

Frederick got lost in conjectures of every sort; and he felt anxious to
return to Paris. This assumption of a right to control his conduct
excited in him a feeling of revolt.

Moreover, he began to experience that nostalgia of the boulevard; and
then, his mother was pressing him so much, M. Roque kept revolving about
him so constantly, and Mademoiselle Louise was so much attached to him,
that it was no longer possible for him to avoid speedily declaring his
intentions.

He wanted to think, and he would be better able to form a right estimate
of things at a distance.

In order to assign a motive for his journey, Frederick invented a story;
and he left home, telling everyone, and himself believing, that he would
soon return.

CHAPTER XIII.

ROSANETTE AS A LOVELY TURK.

His return to Paris gave him no pleasure. It was an evening at the close
of August. The boulevards seemed empty. The passers-by succeeded each
other with scowling faces. Here and there a boiler of asphalt was
smoking; several houses had their blinds entirely drawn. He made his way
to his own residence in the city. He found the hangings covered with
dust; and, while dining all alone, Frederick was seized with a strange
feeling of forlornness; then his thoughts reverted to Mademoiselle
Roque. The idea of being married no longer appeared to him preposterous.
They might travel; they might go to Italy, to the East. And he saw her
standing on a hillock, or gazing at a landscape, or else leaning on