"On the next day, at half-past two in the afternoon, I put on my best dress and my French shoes, and went to visit Annette Duval.
"'Annette,' I said, as politely as possible, 'you do not love me, perhaps; and I, possibly, do not love you.'
"'Perhaps not,' said Annette, beginning to cry, 'but I do not hate you, Celestine. I pray for you, even.'
"'That is not necessary, Annette,' said I, with scorn. 'I can make my salvation myself, thank you. I do not love you, as I have said, but I would not have you marry a sorcerer.'
"What is that you say? A sorcerer? Michel a sorcerer? Nonsense! If you had nothing better to say why did you come?'
"'I came, Annette, to say that Michel is a sorcerer, one who has not made his Easter confession in seven years, one who has sold his soul to the devil. Not only so, but he becomes a loup garou every evening at midnight. My brother Ovide has seen him change into a loup garou only last night.'
"'Mademoiselle,' said Annette, becoming very pale, 'be so kind as to go away.'
"'Annette,' said I, 'listen to me. Ask him why he leaves you every evening before midnight. Ask him to stay with you for a few minutes longer, and you will see.'
"'Mademoiselle Colomb,' said Annette, rising, 'permit me to show you the door.'
"This time I went without a word. It was not necessary to say more. Annette was troubled, and would certainly ask Michel for an explanation. And so it turned out.