"No. But she is just as comical. She is sixty years old, has false
curls and teeth, wit of the time of the Restoration, and toilettes
of the same period."

When the guests returned to the drawing-room, Duroy asked Mme. de
Marelle: "May I escort you home?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because M. Laroche-Mathieu, who is my neighbor, leaves me at my
door every time that I dine here."

"When shall I see you again?"

"Lunch with me to-morrow."

They parted without another word. Duroy did not remain late; as he
descended the staircase, he met Norbert de Varenne, who was likewise
going away. The old poet took his arm; fearing no rivalry on the
newspaper, their work being essentially different, he was very
friendly to the young man.

"Shall we walk along together?"

"I shall be pleased to," replied Duroy.

The streets were almost deserted that night. At first the two men
did not speak. Then Duroy, in order to make some remark, said: "That