his father came up with Silviane, and was stopped by her, just as, in his
turn, he wished to get into the carriage.

"There's no room for you, my dear fellow," said she. "I've a friend with
me."

Rosemonde's little smiling face then peered forth from the depths of the
brougham. And the Baron remained there open-mouthed while the vehicle
swiftly carried the two women away!

"Well, what would you have, my dear fellow?" said Hyacinthe, by way of
explanation to Duthil, who also seemed somewhat amazed by what had
happened. "Rosemonde was worrying my life out, and so I got rid of her by
packing her off with Silviane."

Duvillard was still standing on the pavement and still looking dazed when
Chaigneux, who was going home quite tired out, recognised him, and came
up to say that Fonsegue had thought the matter over, and that Massot's
article would be duly inserted. In the passages, too, there had been a
deal of talk about the famous Trans-Saharan project.

Then Hyacinthe led his father away, trying to comfort him like a sensible
friend, who regarded woman as a base and impure creature. "Let's go home
to bed," said he. "As that article is to appear, you can take it to her
to-morrow. She will see you, sure enough."

Thereupon they lighted cigars, and now and again exchanging a few words,
took their way up the Avenue de l'Opera, which at that hour was deserted
and dismal. Meantime, above the slumbering houses of Paris the breeze
wafted a prolonged sigh, the plaint, as it were, of an expiring world.