them embrace each other, so long and
earnestly, that I felt the evidence of her
treachery to be complete; and finally they
separated, and walked away, in opposite
directions, in the same street.

I had never imagined such duplicity. Such
a beautiful girl to turn out the cunningest
hypocrite I had ever met with! All my old
suspicions of her horrible brother were at once
revived. I shuddered to think what might
have been her real motive in trying to keep
my passion alive for six months. Perhaps to
give her time to draw one victim into her
brother's power, before beginning with me.
At any rate, I resolved to overtake her, and
tax her at once with her faithlessness, in order
to remove all ground for doubts. So I walked
after her rapidly till within a few yards of
her, when she heard my footsteps and turned
round.

"Is that you, Adolphe?" she said, for the
overhanging roofs made it quite dark upon
the pathway.

"No," I answered, coming forward. "It
is I—another of your lovers—your shadow-
worshipper. You know me."

"There is some mistake, sir," she said,
evidently trembling."The darkness has
deceived you."

"No," I answered, "there is no mistake"—
for I took her trembling for a sign of guilt.
"I am your simple correspondent, to whom
you told that pleasant story about the dye.
Do you not blush a deeper scarlet than Jacob
Garcia ever discovered?"

"I don't know who you mean, sir, by Jacob
Garcia," she interrupted.

"Jacob Garcia the Spaniard, I mean: he
who set your fiendish brother's head a-fire,
till he gave up the chemistry business, and
shut himself up with you, and became very
irritable, and could not bear you to look out
of window."

"Indeed, sir,'' she said, " there is some
mistake. I have no brother. I don't
understand you. Pray let me go."

"I am not mistaken," I persisted. "You
think I have only seen you once; but I have
watched you many times in the Cathedral. I
have discovered your duplicity, this very
night. Miss La Roche," I continued impressively,
intending to warn her of the results of
such faithlessness——

"No, sir, indeed," she interrupted, ''that
is not my name. I have heard that name
somewhere—I don't know where. My name
is Mademoiselle Antoinette: my other name
is Duchemin."

"Ay, ay," said I, "you have a lively fancy.
You can invent names—whole histories when
you please. Serpent, confess that you know
who I am."

"For shame!" she said, beginning to shed
tears; "you would not dare to insult me
thus, if Adolphe were near. He would kill
you on the spot."

"Your tears betray you," I said, with the
stern perseverance of Milton's Samson; "I
am satisfied. Henceforth——"

But my manner becoming very impressive
at this point, she shrank back in alarm; and
then, seizing the opportunity, she darted
away, and in a moment disappeared through
the entrance to her house.

In spite of my philosophical theories, I
felt compelled to take the ordinary view of
things which, in calmer moments, I should
have undoubtedly rejected. I was, in short,
vexed at having been her dupe, and tempted
to rush up the stairs again, and provoke her
Goliah of a brother to instant combat. I
felt that I could have returned from the fight,
carrying in my hand his hideous head (with
the expression of contemptuous defiance with
which he began the strife still upon its
features), swinging it to and fro, by its long
black hair, with very great satisfaction. It
would have been sweet to hang his scalp at
my girdle. I could have felt great pleasure
in drinking beer out of his skull in the Scandinavian
paradise. All which ideas passed
through my mind while I was crossing the
road, and before I had caught sight of my
shadow, seated as usual on its shadowy chair.
When I saw this, my mind was troubled.
She had not had time to mount the stairs
and take off her bonnet; I suspected that the
brother's magic was again employed to
deceive me: but the bare possibility of the
porter having made some mistake occurred
to me, and I crossed the road again, and
entered the lodge.

"Mr. Grégoire," I said, "did you not tell
me that the name of my opposite neighbour
is La Roche?"

'Without doubt."

"And that she was to be seen in the Cathedral
any Sunday afternoon; that she was of
common height; had black hair and eyes;
wore chocolate boots: and never appeared
without a bonnet?"

"Pardon," replied the porter; "you
confound two people. I spoke then of Mademoiselle
Antoinette—a very different person."

"But I was speaking of Miss La Roche.
You told me that was my neighbour's name."

"I did. But, said I, if you wish to see a
really pretty young woman, look at Mademoiselle
Antoinette, or rather I meant to say so
when you stopped me."

I was confounded.

"Monsieur is so hasty—so very eccentric,"
said the porter, following up his advantage.

But you said you knew Mademoiselle La
Roche; and it was not for me to say anything
against her.

"Against her!" said I. "What is there
to be said against her? Speak; I shall not
be offended. You may depend upon my
secrecy."

"Mademoiselle La Roche is a very good
young woman," replied Mr. Grégoire, shrugging
his shoulders; "and they say a very
sensible young woman."