“It’s all over,” thought the poor fellow. “Lucienne will not be much longer my neighbor.”
He was mistaken. A month went by without bringing about any change. As in the past, she went out early, came home late, and on Sundays remained alone all day in her room. Once or twice a week, when the weather was fine, the carriage came for her at about three o’clock, and brought her home at nightfall. Maxence had exhausted all conjectures, when one evening, it was the 31st of October, as he was coming in to go to bed, he heard a loud sound of voices in the office of the hotel. Led by an instinctive curiosity, he approached on tiptoe, so as to see and hear every thing. The Fortins and Mlle. Lucienne were having a great discussion.
“That’s all nonsense,” shrieked the worthy landlady; “and I mean to be paid.”
Mlle. Lucienne was quite calm.
“Well,” she replied: “don’t I pay you? Here are forty francs, —thirty in advance for my room, and ten on the old account.”
“I don’t want your ten francs!”
“What do you want, then?”
“Ah,—the hundred and fifty francs which you owe me still.”
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
“You forget our agreement,” she uttered.