“Yes, monsieur; he left it here; he lives now on Rue Pinon, near the Opéra, No.—— Oh, dear! I’ve forgotten, but it will come to me. Here’s your keys, monsieur.”
“And that number, Madame Dupont?”
“It’s surprising; I knew it just the other day. But it ain’t a long street.”
“That’s very lucky.”
“Oh! wait a minute! I forgot, it was so long ago! I’ve got a letter for you; it’s been here six weeks.”
“A letter!”
“Yes. A young woman brought it.”
“A woman! give it to me, pray.”
“Here it is, monsieur.”
I took the letter and hastened upstairs to my room, to escape the concierge’s chatter. Once more I was in that dear apartment! how glad I was to be there! But the letter! It seemed to me that the writing—ah! I dared not hope—I broke the seal; it was she—Nicette—who had written to me!