Bodry's discourse turned chiefly on what
was uppermost in his mind at the moment of
his seizure ; and his desire to make the
long-neglected visit was increased by a
letter which arrived from Lyons, asking
him many questions respecting the silk
merchant's family. But it was in vain
he strove to rise ; the fever still held him in
thrall ; yet, in the perversity of his malady,
he persisted in declaring that the visit must
immediately be paid. Henri Blaireau urged
that Monsieur Gombert was not aware of
his being in Paris, with various other
arguments, and concluded by saying, that if his
friend desired it, he would go to the Rue
Saint Martin and explain the circumstances
of the case.

This last suggestion operated singularly
on the mind of the feverish invalid. Yes!
Blaireau should go as he proposed; but he
must not say a word about his illness, he
must present himself as the real Bodry—
keep Blaireau entirely out of sight and
by and by, when he was able to appear in
person, they might make merry over the
joke and laugh it entirely away. Blaireau
combated this proposition at first; but,
finding that his objections only increased his
friend's nervous irritability, he consented.

His task was not a difficult one, for
Monsieur Gombert knew very little of his
correspondent's domestic affairs, and nothing
personally of his future son-in-law. The
worthy silk-merchant embraced his visitor
with all the effusion which the approaching
connection seemed to warrant, and met
with a demonstration no less cordial. It
was in Monsieur Gombert's counting-house
that the greeting took place, but, the greeting
over, the scene was changed to an
inner apartment, where Madeleine with her
bonne, who had nursed her from her cradle,
was occupied with her embroidery. A feeling
almost akin to envy was Blaireau's first
sensation on seeing the beautiful girl to whom
Bodry was betrothed, but it lasted only a
moment, being quickly superseded by the
pleasure he experienced in looking at, and
conversing with her. At the end of a couple
of hours he found himself head over ears in
love. On the other hand, the impression
which he appeared to have made on Monsieur
Gombert and his daughter, and on the old
nurse, who had a voice in everything, was all
he could have desired, provided always that
he had been Henri Bodry, and not his
temporary substitute.

Unwillingly, at last, he rose to take his
departure, and lingered as he pressed the
hand of Madeleine Gombert, which was
not, he fancied, too suddenly withdrawn;
neither did the expression of her countenance
convey the idea that he would not
be welcome when he renewed his visit. All
this was consistent enough with the relation
in which Henri Bodry stood towards the
family Gombert; but, somehow or other,
Blaireau could not divest himself of the notion
—which ninety-nine Frenchmen out of a
hundred would have entertained—that no
small share of the reception accorded to him
was a tribute to his own personal qualities.

On his return to the Rue des Carmes, he
found Henri Bodry much worse. A physician
was sent for; Blaireau was unremitting in his
attention, but the fever increased alarmingly,
and as evening drew on, he began to fear for
his friend's life. At Bodry's request, Blaireau
related to him all the particulars of the
interview in the Rue Saint Martin, and
the subject still engrossed the mind of
the sick young man, to the exclusion of
every other. Even when conscious of his own
danger, he still continued the theme.

"I have often been ill," he said, " but never
felt before as I feel now. Should I die,
Henri Blaireau, promise me here, that you
will still be Henri Bodry. Think what a
desolation it would be to Monsieur Gombert
and Madeleine to be told of my death!
Marry her, for my sake; then, I shall feel that
I have done my duty in giving her the
husband she expected. No, no, I am not light-
headed, I know very well what I say. Unless
you promise this, I cannot die content."

Blaireau felt convinced that his friend's
mind was wandering, but to keep him quiet,
he again promised all that was required. For
half-an-hour Bodry remained silent, and his
anxious attendant believed he slept; but
suddenly he rose up in bed, and a distressing
change was apparent; his breathing
came short and thick, his voice was faint
and low, the hand of death was evidently
upon him. Grasping Blaireau's arm
convulsively, as if striving to draw him closer,
he feebly whispered the word " Remember!"
and then fell back dead.

II.

IT was ten o'clock at night, and Monsieur
Gombert was alone in his counting-house.
Everything was silent in the apartment
but the ticking of one of those large
clocks, white-faced, blue-figured, and highly
bedizened with gilding, which we call of the
age of Louis Quatorze, though they belong to
the time of his great-grandson. That clock
had just struck ten, and the last stroke had
hardly ceased to vibrate when Monsieur
Gombert, who happened to raise his head,
became aware of some one who was standing
near the door. He had not heard anybody
enter, perhaps because he had been absorbed
in his accounts, and his astonishment—not
unmixed with fear, for he was of a nervous
and timid nature—was very great.

"Who is there ? " he asked with hesitation.
"Is that—you—Jacques?"

Jacques was Monsieur Gombert's
confidential clerk; but no Jacques replied, and
the silk merchant remained speechless, with
his eyes still fixed on the figure which now
slowly advanced a few steps, and, as it seemed