Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri, who was going on first, still without speaking, by the girl's side, and at last they got back to Bézons. Monsieur Dufour, who had got sober, was waiting for them very impatiently, while the young man with the yellow hair, was having a mouthful of something to eat, before leaving the inn. The carriage was in the yard, with the horse in, and the grandmother, who had already got in, was very frightened at the thought of being overtaken by night, before they got back to Paris, as the outskirts were not safe.
They shook hands, and the Dufour family drove off.
"Good-bye, until we meet again!" the oarsman cried, and the answer they got was a sigh and a tear.
Two months later, as Henri was going along the Rue des Martyrs, he saw Dufour, Ironmonger over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout lady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, and after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all.
"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired, specially.
"Very well, thank you; she is married."
"Ah!" ... But mastering his feelings, he added: "Whom was she married to?"
"To that young man who went with us, you know, he has joined us in business."
"I remember him, perfectly."