"Well, so you are not cross, bibi?" she said, coming up to me.

"N—n—n—no I You weary mel" I said, removing her

hands from me, but this seemed to her so curious that she immediately sat down beside me.

"You see, I only decided to pay so much because they could be sold later on if need be. They can be sold again for twenty thousand francs."

"No doubt, no doubt; they are splendid horses, and you have a fine turn-out now; it suits you; well, that's enough."

"Then you are not cross?"

"Why should I be? You are sensible to provide yourself with things that are necessary to you. All that will be of use to you afterwards. I see that it is quite necessary for you to estabUsh yourself in such a style; otherwise you will never save up your miUion. Our hundred thousand francs is only a beginning; a drop in the ocean."

Blanche had expected from me anj^thing but such reflections (instead of outcries and reproaches). She seemed to drop from the clouds.

"So that's what you are like! Mais tu as Vesprit pow com-prendre. Sais-tu, man gargon, though you are an outcMtel you ought to have been bom a prince. So you don't grudge the money's going so quickly?"

"Bother the money! the quicker the better!"

"Mais sais-tw . . . mais dis done, are you rich? Mais sais-tu. you really despise money too much. Qu'est ce que tu feras cupres, dis dionc?"

"Apres, I shall go to Homburg and win another hundred thousand francs."

"Old, om, c'est ga, c'esi magnifique! And I know you will certainly win it and bring it here. Dis done, why you will make me reaUy love you. Eh hien, I will love you all the time for being like that, and won't once be unfaithful to you. You see, I have not loved you all this time, parceque je croyais que tu n'etais qu'um outchitel [quelque chose comnne wn luquais, n'est-ce pas?), but I have been faithful to you aU the same, parceque je suis bonne fille."

"Come, you are Ij^ing! How about Albert, that swarthy-faced little officer; do you suppose I didn't see last time?"

"Oh, oh, mais tu es . . ."

"Come, you are \yya%, you are lying; why, do you suppose I should be angry? Why, it's no matter; il faut que la jetmesse se passe. And there's no need for you to send him away if you had him before me and are fond of him. Only don't give him money, do you hear?"

"So you are not angry about it? Mods tu es tm vrai phih-sophe, scds-tu? Un vrcd philosophe!" she cried enthusiastically.

"Eh hiem! je fmmertd, je t'aimerai — tu verras, tu seras comiemi!"

And from that time she really did seem to be attached to me, to be really affectionate; and so our last ten days passed. The "stars" promised me I did not see. But in some respects she really did keep her word. What is more, she introduced me to Hortense, who really was a remarkable woman in her own way, and in our circle was called Therese philosophe . . .

However, there is no need to enlarge upon that; all that might make a separate story, in a different tone, which I do not want to introduce into this story. The fact is, I longed above everything for this episode to be over. But our himdred thousand francs lasted, as I have mentioned already, almost a month— at which I was genuinely surprised; eighty thousand of that, at least, Blanche spent on things for herself, and we lived on no more than twenty thousand francs—and yet it was enough. Blanche, who was in the end almost open with me (or, at any rate, did not lie to me about some things), declared tint, anyway, the debts she had been obliged to make would not fall upon me: "I have never given you bills or lOUs to sign," she said, "because I was sorry for you; but any other girl would have certainly done it and got you into prison. You see, you see how I loved you and how good I am I Think of what that devil of a wedding alone is going to cost me 1"

We really were going to have a wedding. It took place at the very end of my month, and it may be assumed that the last remains of my hundred thousand francs went upon it; that was how the thing ended; that is, my month ended with that, and after it I received my formal dismissal.

This was how it happened: a week after our arrival in Paris the General suddenly turned up. He came straight to Blanche, and from his first call almost Uved with us. He had a lodging of his own, it is true. Blanche received him J057fully, with shrieks of laughter, and even flew to embrace him; as things had turned out, she was unwilling to let him go: and he had to follow her about everywhere, on the boulevards, and to the theatres, and to call on her acquaintances, and to take her for drives. The General was still of use for such purposes; he was of rather imposing and decorous appearance—he was above the average in height, with dyed whiskers and moustaches (he had once served in the Cuirassiers); he was still presentable-looking,

though his face was puffy. His manners were superb; he looked well in evening dress. In Paris he began wearing his decorations. The promenade on the boulevard with a man like this was not only possible, but advaniageous. The good-natured and senseless General was immensely delighted with all this; he had not reckoned upon it at all when he came to see us on arriving in Paris. He had come, then, almost trembling with terror; he was afraid that Blanche would make an uproar and order him to be turned out; and so he was highly delighted at the changed aspect of the position, and spent the whole month in a sort of senseless rapture: and he was in the same state when I left him. I learnt that on the morning of our sudden departure from Roulettenburg he had some sort of a fit. He had fallen insensible, and had been cill that week almost like a madman, talking incessantly. He was being nursed and doctored, but he suddenly threw up everything, got into the train and flew off to Paris. Of course, Blanche's reception was the best cure for him; but the traces of his illness remained long after, in spate of his joy and his enthusiastic condition. He was utterly incapable of reflection or even of carrying on a conversation on any serious subject; when any such topic was brought forward, he confined himself to nodding his head and ejaculating, "H'm!" at every word. He often laughed, but it was a nervous, sickly laugh, as though he were giggling; another time he would sit for hours looking as black as night, knitting his bushy brows. Of many things he had no recollection whatever; he had become absent-minded to an unseemly degree, and had acquired the habit of talking to himself. Blanche was the only person who could rouse him; and, indeed, his attacks of gloom and 4epression, when he hid himself in a comer, meant nothing but that he hadn't seen Blanche for a long time, or that Blanche had gone off somewhere without taking him, or had not been nice to him before going. At the same time he could not say what he wanted, and did not know why he was depressed and miserable. After sitting for two or three hours (I noticed this on two or three occasions when Blanche had gone out for the whole day, probably to see Albert), he would suddenly begin to look about him in a nervous fluster, to stare round, to recollect himself, and seem to be looking for something; but seeing no one and not remembering the question he meant to ask, he sank into forgetfulness again till Blanche reappeared, gay, frisky, gorgeously dressed, with her ringing laugh; she would run up to him, beging teasing him, and even kissing him—a

Tig

favour which she did not often, however, bestow upon him. Once the General was so delighted to see her that he even burst into tears—rl really marvelled at him.

From the very first, Blanche began to plead his cause before me. Indeed, she waxed eloquent in his behalf; reminded me that she had betrayed the General for my sake, that she was almost engaged to him, had given him her word; that he had abandoned his family on her account, and, lastly, that I had been in his service and ought to remember that, and that I ought to be ashamed ... I said nothing while she rattled away at a terrific pax:e. At last I laughed: and with that the matter ended, that is, at first, she thought I was a fool: and at last came to the conclusion that I was a very nice and accommodating man. In fact, I had the good fortune to win in the end the complete approval of that excellent young woman. (Blanche really was, though, a very good-natured girl—^in her own way, of course; I had not such a high opinion of her at first.) "You're a kind and clever man," ^e used to say to me towards the end, "and . . . and . . . it's only a pity you are such a fool! You never, never, save anjrthingl"