Melmoth, Castanier, and Mme. de la Garde were standing out in the
Boulevard when Melmoth raised his arm. A drizzling rain was falling,
the streets were muddy, the air was close, there was thick darkness
overhead; but in a moment, as the arm was outstretched, Paris was
filled with sunlight; it was high noon on a bright July day. The
trees were covered with leaves; a double stream of joyous holiday
makers strolled beneath them. Sellers of liquorice water shouted their
cool drinks. Splendid carriages rolled past along the streets. A cry
of terror broke from the cashier, and at that cry rain and darkness
once more settled down upon the Boulevard.

Mme. de la Garde had stepped into the carriage. "Do be quick, dear!"
she cried; "either come in or stay out. Really you are as dull as
ditch-water this evening----"

"What must I do?" Castanier asked of Melmoth.

"Would you like to take my place?" inquired the Englishman.

"Yes."

"Very well, then; I will be at your house in a few moments."

"By the by, Castanier, you are rather off your balance," Aquilina
remarked. "There is some mischief brewing: you were quite melancholy
and thoughtful all through the play. Do you want anything that I can
give you, dear? Tell me."

"I am waiting till we are at home to know whether you love me."