"You don't say so!" said Frederick.
"Why, yes; she is going back home again."
The charm of the things around him was suddenly withdrawn. That which had seemed to him to be diffused vaguely through the place had now vanished—or, rather, it had never been there. He experienced an infinite amazement, and, as it were, the painful sensation of having been betrayed.
Arnoux, while rummaging about in his drawer, began to smile. Was he laughing at him? The clerk laid down a bundle of moist papers on the table.
"Ha! the placards," exclaimed the picture-dealer. "I am not ready to dine this evening."
Regimbart took up his hat.
"What, are you leaving me?"
"Seven o'clock," said Regimbart.
Frederick followed him.
At the corner of the Rue Montmartre, he turned round. He glanced towards the windows of the first floor, and he laughed internally with self-pity as he recalled to mind with what love he had so often contemplated them. Where, then, did she reside? How was he to meet her now? Once more around the object of his desire a solitude opened more immense than ever!