Castanier came in. Aquilina, nowise disconcerted, crumpled up the
letter, took it with the tongs, and held it in the flames.

"So that is what you do with your love-letters, is it?" asked
Castanier.

"Oh goodness, yes," said Aquilina; "is it not the best way of keeping
them safe? Besides, fire should go to fire, as water makes for the
river."

"You are talking as if it were a real love-letter, Naqui----"

"Well, am I not handsome enough to receive them?" she said, holding up
her forehead for a kiss. There was a carelessness in her manner that
would have told any man less blind than Castanier that it was only a
piece of conjugal duty, as it were, to give this joy to the cashier,
but use and wont had brought Castanier to the point where
clear-sightedness is no longer possible for love.

"I have taken a box at the Gymnase this evening," he said; "let us
have dinner early, and then we need not dine in a hurry."

"Go and take Jenny. I am tired of plays. I do not know what is the
matter with me this evening; I would rather stay here by the fire."

"Come, all the same though, Naqui; I shall not be here to bore you
much longer. Yes, Quiqui, I am going to start to-night, and it will be
some time before I come back again. I am leaving everything in your
charge. Will you keep your heart for me too?"