The brunette called out to him: "Have you found your tongue?"

He stammered: "Zounds!" too bashful to say another word. A pause
ensued, during which the brunette took his arm and together they
left the hall.




CHAPTER II.

MADAME FORESTIER


"Where does M. Forestier live?"

"Third floor on the left," said the porter pleasantly, on learning
Duroy's destination.

Georges ascended the staircase. He was somewhat embarrassed and ill-
at-ease. He had on a new suit but he was uncomfortable. He felt that
it was defective; his boots were not glossy, he had bought his shirt
that same evening at the Louvre for four francs fifty, his trousers
were too wide and betrayed their cheapness in their fit, or rather,
misfit, and his coat was too tight.

Slowly he ascended the stairs, his heart beating, his mind anxious.
Suddenly before him stood a well-dressed gentleman staring at him.
The person resembled Duroy so close that the latter retreated, then
stopped, and saw that it was his own image reflected in a pier-