As Saniel appeared to hesitate, Balzajette, mistaking the cause of his
silence, persisted.

"She is impatient," he said. "Let us go the first day that is possible."

He must reply, and in these conditions a refusal would be inexplicable.

"Will to-morrow suit you?" he asked.

"To-morrow, by all means. At what hour?"

Before replying, Saniel went to his desk and consulted an almanac, which
appeared perfectly ridiculous to Balzajette.

"Does he imagine, the young 'confrere', that I am going to believe his
time so fully occupied that he must make a special arrangement to give me
an hour?"

But it was not an arrangement of this kind that Saniel sought. His
almanac gave the rising and the setting of the sun, and it was the exact
hour of sunset that he wished: "26 March, 6h. 20m." At this moment it
would not be dark enough at Madame Dammauville's for lamps to be lighted,
and yet it would be dark enough to prevent her from seeing him clearly in
the uncertain light of evening.

"Will a quarter past six suit you? I will call for you at six o'clock."

"Very well. Only I shall ask you to be very exact; I have a dinner at
seven o'clock in the Rue Royale."