Opera. Her call, however, answered the same purpose. In a moment,

another phenomenon! the salon assumed a piquant morning look, quite in
keeping with the becoming toilethastily got together by the fugitive;

we say it to her glory, for she was evidently a clever woman, in this
at least.

"You!" she said, coming forward, "at this hour? What has happened?"
"Very serious things," answered des Lupeaulx. "You and I must

understand each other now."
Celestine looked at the man behind his glasses, and understood the

matter.
"My principle vice," she said, "is oddity. For instance, I do not mix

up affections with politics; let us talk politics,--business, if you
will,--the rest can come later. However, it is not really oddity nor a

whim that forbids me to mingle ill-assorted colors and put together
things that have no affinity, and compels me to avoid discords; it is

my natural instinct as an artist. We women have politics of our own."
Already the tones of her voice and the charm of her manners were

producing their effect on the secretary and metamorphosing his
roughness into sentimentalcourtesy; she had recalled him to his

obligations as a lover. A clever pretty woman makes an atmosphere
about her in which the nerves relax and the feelings soften.

"You are ignorant of what is happening," said des Lupeaulx, harshly,
for he still thought it best to make a show of harshness. "Read that."

He gave the two newspapers to the graceful woman, having drawn a line
in red ink round each of the famous articles.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "but this is dreadful! Who is this
Baudoyer?"

"A donkey," answered des Lupeaulx; "but, as you see, he uses means,--
he gives monstrances; he succeeds, thanks to some clever hand that

pulls the wires."
The thought of her debts crossed Madame Rabourdin's mind and blurred

her sight, as if two lightning flashes had blinded her eyes at the
same moment; her ears hummed under the pressure of the blood that

began to beat in her arteries; she remained for a moment quite
bewildered, gazing at a window which she did not see.

"But are you faithful to us?" she said at last, with a winning glance
at des Lupeaulx, as if to attach him to her.

"That is as it may be," he replied, answering her glance with an
interrogative look which made the poor woman blush.

"If you demand caution-money you may lose all," she said, laughing; "I
thought you more magnanimous than you are. And you, you thought me

less a person than I am,--a sort of school-girl."
"You have misunderstood me," he said, with a covert smile; "I meant

that I could not assist a man who plays against me just as l'Etourdi
played against Mascarille."

"What can you mean?"
"This will prove to you whether I am magnanimous or not."

He gave Madame Rabourdin the memorandumstolen by Dutocq, pointing out
to her the passage in which her husband had so ably analyzed him.

"Read that."
Celestine recognized the handwriting, read the paper, and turned pale

under the blow.
"All the ministries, the whole service is treated in the same way,"

said des Lupeaulx.
"Happily," she said, "you alone possess this document. I cannot

explain it, even to myself."
"The man who stole it is not such a fool as to let me have it without

keeping a copy for himself; he is too great a liar to admit it, and
too clever in his business to give it up. I did not even ask him for

it."
"Who is he?"

"Your chief clerk."
"Dutocq! People are always punished through their kindnesses! But,"

she added, "he is only a dog who wants a bone."
"Do you know what the other side offer me, poor devil of a general-

secretary?"
"What?"

"I owe thirty-thousand and odd miserable francs,--you will despise me
because it isn't more, but here, I grant you, I am significant. Well,

Baudoyer's uncle has bought up my debts, and is, doubtless, ready to
give me a receipt for them if Baudoyer is appointed."

"But all that is monstrous."
"Not at all; it is monarchical and religious, for the Grand Almoner is

concerned in it. Baudoyer himself must appoint Colleville in return
for ecclesiasticalassistance."

"What shall you do?"
"What will you bid me do?" he said, with charming grace, holding out

his hand.
Celestine no longer thought him ugly, nor old, nor white and chilling

as a hoar-frost, nor indeed anything that was odious and offensive,
but she did not give him her hand. At night, in her salon, she would

have let him take it a hundred times, but here, alone and in the
morning, the action seemed too like a promise that might lead her far.

"And they say that statesmen have no hearts!" she cried
enthusiastically, trying to hide the harshness of her refusal under

the grace of her words. "The thought used to terrify me," she added,
assuming an innocent, ingenuous air.

"What a calumny!" cried des Lupeaulx. "Only this week one of the
stiffest of diplomatists, a man who has been in the service ever since

he came to manhood, has married the daughter of an actress, and has
introduced her at the most iron-bound court in Europe as to

quarterings of nobility."
"You will continue to support us?"

"I am to draw up your husband's appointment-- But no cheating,
remember."

She gave him her hand to kiss, and tapped him on the cheek as she did
so. "You are mine!" she said.

Des Lupeaulx admired the expression.
[That night, at the Opera, the old coxcomb related the incident as

follows: "A woman who did not want to tell a man she would be his,--an
acknowledgment a well-bred woman never allows herself to make,--

changed the words into 'You are mine.' Don't you think the evasion
charming?"]

"But you must be my ally," he answered. "Now listen, your husband has
spoken to the minister of a plan for the reform of the administration;

the paper I have shown you is a part of that plan. I want to know what
it is. Find out, and tell me to-night."

"I will," she answered, whollyunaware of the important nature of the
errand which brought des Lupeaulx to the house that morning.

"Madame, the hair-dresser."
"At last!" thought Celestine. "I don't see how I should have got out

of it if he had delayed much longer."
"You do not know to what lengths my devotion can go," said des

Lupeaulx, rising. "You shall be invited to the first select party
given by his Excellency's wife."

"Ah, you are an angel!" she cried. "And I see now how much you love
me; you love me intelligently."

"To-night, dear child," he said, "I shall find out at the Opera what
journalists are conspiring for Baudoyer, and we will measure swords

together."
"Yes, but you must dine with us, will you not? I have taken pains to

get the things you like best--"
"All that is so like love," said des Lupeaulx to himself as he went

downstairs, "that I am willing to be deceived in that way for a long
time. Well, if she IS tricking me I shall know it. I'll set the

cleverest of all traps before the appointment is fairly signed, and
I'll read her heart. Ah! my little cats, I know you! for, after all,