followed the coffee. The hostess and her guests lighted cigarettes,
but Forestier suddenly began to cough. When the attack was over, he
growled angrily: "These parties are not good for me; they are
stupid. Let us go home."

Mme. de Marelle summoned the waiter and asked for her bill. She
tried to read it, but the figures danced before her eyes; she handed
the paper to Duroy.

"Here, pay it for me; I cannot see." At the same time, she put her
purse in his hand.

The total was one hundred and thirty francs. Duroy glanced at the
bill and when it was settled, whispered: "How much shall I give the
waiter?"

"Whatever you like; I do not know."

He laid five francs upon the plate and handed the purse to its
owner, saying: "Shall I escort you home?"

"Certainly; I am unable to find the house."

They shook hands with the Forestiers and were soon rolling along in
a cab side by side. Duroy could think of nothing to say; he felt
impelled to clasp her in his arms. "If I should dare, what would she
do?" thought he. The recollection of their conversation at dinner
emboldened, but the fear of scandal restrained him. Mme. de Marelle
reclined silently in her corner. He would have thought her asleep,
had he not seen her eyes glisten whenever a ray of light penetrated