"But why do you say that, madame?"
"It is impossible for me to explain now, monsieur; but, whatever happens, you must rest assured that I have been very glad of an opportunity to thank you for a service I shall always remember with gratitude."
"What, madame, I may never see you again, yet I am leaving you without even knowing your name."
"If we are never to meet again, monsieur, what is the use of knowing my name? If, on the contrary, we do meet here again on Thursday I will tell you who I am, and, if you still desire it, we will continue the acquaintance begun in a different hemisphere, and renewed by an unexpected meeting."
"I thank you for this hope, madame, uncertain though it be. I will not insist further, so farewell,—until Thursday, madame."
"Until Thursday, monsieur."
And the two separated.
CHAPTER XI.
NEAR NEIGHBOURS.
THE morning after this interview between these two travellers who had met in Chili, the following scene occurred in the fourth story of house Number 57, on the Rue de Vaugirard.
It was quarter of four, but a remarkably handsome young man was already writing by the light of a shaded lamp.