"_Oui, ta Julie! Petit ingrat_! how I have sought for thee! how I have
hungered for the sight of thee! That monster Savarin! he would not give
me any news of thee. That is ages ago. But at least Frederic Lemercier,
whom I saw since, promised to remind thee that I lived still. He did not
do so, or I should have seen thee--n'est ce, pas?"

"Certainly, certainly--only--_chere amie_--you know that--that--as I
before announced to thee, I--I--was engaged in marriage--and--and--"

"But are you married?"

"No, no. Hark! Take care--is not that the hiss of an obus?"

"What then? Let it come! Would it might slay us both while my hand is
in thine!"

"Ah!" muttered Gustave, inwardly, "what a difference! This is love! No
preaching here! _Elle est plus digne de moi que d'autre_."

"No," he said, aloud, "I am not married. Marriage is at best a pitiful
ceremony. But if you wished for news of me, surely you must have heard
of my effect as an orator not despised in the Salle Favre. Since, I have
withdrawn from that arena. But as a journalist I flatter myself that I
have had a _beau succes_."

"Doubtless, doubtless, my Gustave, my Poet! Wherever thou art, thou must
be first among men. But, alas it is my fault--my misfortune. I have not
been in the midst of a world that perhaps rings of thy name."