"Monsieur—the fact is—that—it was day before yesterday that a lady came to see you. Didn't your servant tell you?"
"Certainly he did."
"That lady sat down; she stayed a long time with me, and examined me very closely. She had a strange way about her. When she mentioned you, she said just Rochebrune, or Charles. She is very intimate with you, it seems."
"Well! what then?"
"After looking at me so hard that I didn't know which way to turn, she began to talk to me. She asked a lot of questions about the beginning of our acquaintance. She asked me how long I'd known you, and—and—oh! a lot of things I don't dare tell you. I just told her the truth—all you had done for me, and all I had to be grateful to you for. You are not angry, are you, monsieur, because I told her all that?"
"Why should it make me angry?"
"The strange part of it was that the lady didn't seem pleased to hear me say all—all the good of you that you deserve! She kept shrugging her shoulders—I saw it plainly enough! And at last she cried: 'This is all very noble, it's magnificent; but it's easy to see what the end of it will be. When a young woman installs herself in a young man's bachelor apartment, there must be in the bottom of her heart a sentiment stronger than her care for her reputation; it must be that she isn't afraid to be looked upon by the world as that young man's mistress.'"
"She said that?"
"Yes, and then she went away, saying: 'I don't want to make you unhappy, mademoiselle; I simply mean to give you a little advice.'—Oh! but she did make me awfully unhappy!"
"And is that the reason why you don't propose to work here to-day?"