"I shall be miserable," he thought, "the day when she does not come
home; and yet it would be the very best thing that could happen
for me."

Nevertheless, he spent all his time trying to find some explanations
for the conduct of this strange girl, who, beneath her woolen dress,
had the haughty manners of a great lady. Then he delighted to
imagine between her and himself some of those subjects of confidence,
some of those facilities which chance never fails to supply to
attentive passion, or some event which would enable him to emerge
from his obscurity, and to acquire some rights by virtue of some
great service rendered.

But never had he dared to hope for an occasion as propitious as the
one he had just seized. And yet, after he had returned to his room,
he hardly dared to congratulate himself upon the promptitude of his
decision. He knew too well Mlle. Lucienne's excessive pride and
sensitive nature.

"I should not be surprised if she were angry with me for what I've
done," he thought.

The evening being quite chilly, he had lighted a few sticks; and,
sitting by the fireside, he was waiting, his mind filled with vague
hopes. It seemed to him that his neighbor could not absolve herself
from coming to thank him; and he was listening intently to all the
noises of the house, starting at the sound of footsteps on the
stairs, and at the slamming of doors. Ten times, at least, he went
out on tiptoe to lean out of the window on the landing, to make sure
that there was no light in Mlle. Lucienne's room. At eleven o'clock
she had not yet come home; and he was deliberating whether he would
not start out in quest of information, when there was a knock at the
door.

"Come in!" he cried, in a voice choked with emotion. Mlle. Lucienne
came in. She was somewhat paler than usual, but calm and perfectly
self-possessed. Having bowed without the slightest shade of
embarrassment, she laid upon the mantel-piece the thirty
five-franc-notes which Maxence had thrown down to the Fortins; and,
in her most natural tone,

"Here are your hundred and fifty francs, sir," she uttered. "I am
more grateful than I can express for your prompt kindness in lending
them to me; but I did not need them."

Maxence had risen from his seat, and was making every effort to
control his own feelings.

"Still," he began, "after what I heard--"

"Yes," she interrupted, "Mme. Fortin and her husband were trying to
frighten me. But they were