f
leaving the Hotel des Folies, when one evening:

"Well," said Mme. Fortin to him, "all is made up again, it seems.
The beautiful carriage called again to-day."

Maxence could have beaten her.

"What good would it do you," he replied, "if Lucienne were to turn
out badly?"

"It's always a pleasure," she grumbled, "to have one more woman to
torment the men. Those are the girls, you see, who avenge us poor
honest women!"

The sequel seemed at first to justify her worst previsions. Three
times during that week, Mlle. Lucienne rode out in grand style; but
as she always returned, and always resumed her eternal black woolen
dress,

"I can't make head or tail of it," thought Maxence. "But never mind,
I'll clear the matter up yet."

He applied, and obtained leave of absence; and from the very next
day he took up a position behind the window of the adjoining cafe.
On the first day he lost his time; but on the second day, at about
three o'clock, the famous equipage made its appearance; and, a few
moments later, Mlle. Lucienne took a seat in it. Her toilet was
richer, and more showy still, than the first time. Maxence jumped
into a cab.

"You see that carriage," he said to the coachman, "Wherever it
goes, you must follow it. I give ten francs extra pay."

"All right!" replied the driver, whipping up his horses.

And much need he had, too, of whipping them; for the carriage that
carried off Mlle. Lucienne started at full trot down the Boulevards,
to the Madeleine, then along the Rue Royale, and through the Place
de la Concorde, to the Avenue des Champs-Elysees, where the horses
were brought down to a walk. It was the end of September, and one
of those lovely autumnal days which are a last smile of the blue
sky and the last caress of the sun.

There were races in the Bois de Boulogne; and the equipages were
five and six abreast on the avenue. The side-alleys were crowded
with idlers. Maxence, from the inside of his cab, never lost sight
of Mlle. Lucienne.

She was evidently creating a sensation. The men stopped to look
at her with gaping admiration: the women leaned out of their
carriages to see her better.

"Where can she be going?" Maxence wondered.

She was going to the Bois; and soon her carriage joined the
interminable line of equipages which were following the grand drive
at a walk. It became easier now to follow on foot. Maxence sent
off his cab to wait for him at a particular spot, and took