"And in his devotion to his friend, he reproached me for my perfidy! Ah! that was very well done! To fight to avenge one's friend is a deed worthy of the knights of old. When I see Monsieur Cherami again, I will offer him my compliments."
"Do you mean that you bear him no ill-will for calling you faithless?"
"Oh! not the least in the world! If women lost their tempers every time they were called faithless, they would spend most of their time in anger."
While interviews of this sort were constantly taking place between the two sisters, both of whom were engrossed by the same thought, although one was compelled to stifle her sighs, while the other made no secret of her hopes, a certain person was taking much pains to bring back to them the subject which interested them so deeply. The reader will have guessed that we refer to Cherami.
After Auguste's death, the ex-Beau Arthur had reflected thus:
"I must wait until a few weeks have passed; it wouldn't be decent for my lovelorn Gustave to return at once and throw himself at the pretty widow's feet; _non est hic locus_; it isn't always best to take active steps; in order that they may succeed, they must be taken at the opportune moment. I still have some débris of the five hundred francs my dear friend loaned me, and I have the change of the hundred-franc note which poor Monléard left me to pay for the breakfast, which cost only seventeen francs fifty. With that, and with a passably pretty switch, and a passably decent costume, one can enjoy this paltry life of ours to some slight extent. Gad! at this moment I should be very glad to meet those two grisettes whom I saw one day at an omnibus office at Porte Saint-Martin. Parbleu! the same day I made the acquaintance of Gustave. They were both pretty--one was a brunette, the other a blonde--one plump and one thin--a morsel for an attorney; and, judging from appearances, one bright and one stupid. Their names were Laurette and Lucie, and they were feather-girls on Rue Saint-Denis. I have never met them since. Par la sambleu! it's my fault, I'm a jackass! I had only to go into all the feather-shops on Rue Saint-Denis--to tell the truth, I haven't always been in a position to play the gallant with young ladies--to invite them to the play and to supper, and I can't do anything less than that by way of renewing the acquaintance. But, now that I'm in funds, what prevents me from looking them up? That idea smiles upon me. It reminds me of happy days.--My mind is made up: before I begin my search for Gustave, I will go in quest of Laurette and Lucie; this very evening, after dinner, I will try my hand at hunting the feather-girls."