'I have only been to her house three times,' said René.

'Only three times?' repeated Claude, looking at his friend. Emilie's plaintive confidences on the preceding evening had left him no doubt concerning the relations between Suzanne and the poet. René's imprudent exclamation, however, opened his eyes to the peculiar character these relations must have assumed.

'I don't want to know anything,' he went on; 'it is an understood thing that honour forbids us to talk of such women, just as if real honour did not call upon us to denounce their infamy to the whole world. So many fresh victims would then be spared! Proofs? You want proofs. Collect them for yourself. I know only two ways of getting at a woman's secrets—by opening her letters or having her watched. Madame Moraines never writes—you may be sure of that. Put some one on her track.'

'You are advising me to commit an ignoble action!' cried the poet.

'Nothing is noble or ignoble in love,' replied Larcher. 'I have myself done what I advise you to do. Yes, I have set detectives to watch Colette. A connection with one of these hussies means war to the knife, and you are scrupulous about the choice of your weapon.'

'No, no,' replied René, shaking his head; 'I cannot.'

'Then follow her yourself!' continued the relentless logician. 'I know my Desforges. He's a character, don't you make any mistake. I made a study of him once, when I was still fool enough to believe that observation led to talent. This man is an astonishing compound of order and disorder, of libertinism and hygiene. Their meetings are no doubt regulated, like all else in his life,—once a week, at the same hour,—not in the morning, which would interfere with his exercise,—not too late in the afternoon, which would interfere with his visits and his game of bézique at the club. Watch her. Before a week is over you will know the truth. I wish I could say that I had any doubt concerning the result of the experiment And it is I, my poor boy, who led you into this mire! You were so happy here until I took you by the hand and introduced you to that wicked world where you met this monster. If it hadn't been she it would have been another. I seem to bring misfortune on all those I love. But tell me you forgive me! I have such need of your friendship. Come, don't say no!'

Then, as Claude held out his hands, René grasped them fervently, and sinking down into a chair—the same in which Suzanne had sat—he burst into tears and exclaimed, 'My God, what suffering this is!'

* * * * *

Claude had given his friend a week. Before the end of the fourth day René called at the Sainte-Euverte mansion in a state of such agitation that Ferdinand could not repress an exclamation as he opened the door.