"I must and shall find out," interrupted M. Costeclar. "I have a very intelligent servant"
Already he was starting in the direction of the spot where his carriage was waiting for him. The old beau stopped him.
Don't bother yourself, my dear friend," he said. " I have also a servant who is no fool; and he has had orders for over fifteen minutes."
The others burst out laughing.
"Distanced, Costeclar!" exclaimed M. Saint Pavin, who, notwithstanding his slovenly dress and cynic manners, seemed perfectly well received.
No one was now paying any attention to Maxence; and he slipped off without the slightest care as to what M. Costeclar might think.
Reaching the spot where his cab awaited him, "Which way, boss?" inquired the driver. Maxence hesitated. What better had he to do than to go home? And yet...
"We'll wait for that same carriage," he answered; and we'll follow it on the return."
But he learned nothing further. Mlle. Lucienne drove straight to the Boulevard du Temple, and, as before, immediately resumed her eternal black dress; and Maxence saw, her go to the little restaurant for her modest dinner.
But he saw something else too.
Almost on the heels of the girl, a servant in livery entered the hotel corridor, and only went off after remaining a full quarter of an hour in busy conference with Mme. Fortin.
"It's all over," thought the poor fellow. "Lucienne will not be much longer my neighbor."
He was mistaken. A month went by without bringing about any change.
As in the past, she went out early, came home late, and on Sundays remained alone all day in her room. Once or twice a week, when the weather was fine, the carriage came for her at about three o'clock, and brought her home at nightfall. Maxence had exhausted all conjectures, when one evening, it was the 31st of October, as he was coming in to go to bed, he heard a loud sound of voices in the office of the hotel. Led by an instinctive curiosity, he approached on tiptoe, so as to see and hear every thing. The Fortins and Mlle.
Lucienne were having a great discussion.
"That's all nonsense," shrieked the worthy, landlady; "and I mean to be paid."
Mlle. Lucienne was quite calm.
"Well," she replied: "don't I pay you? Here are forty francs, - thirty in advance for my room, and ten on the old account."
"I don't want your ten francs!"
"What do you want, then?"
"Ah, - the hundred and fifty francs which you owe me still."
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
"You forget our agreement," she uttered.
"Our agreement?"
"Yes. After the Commune, it was understood that I would give you ten francs a month on the old account; as long as I give them to you, you have nothing to ask."
Crimson with rage, Mme. Fortin had risen from her seat.
"Formerly," she interrupted, "I presumed I had to deal with a poor working-girl, an honest girl."
Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the insult.
"I have not the amount you ask," she said coldly.
"Well, then," vociferated the other, "you must go and ask it of those who pay for your carriages and your dresses."
Still impassible, the girl, instead of answering, stretched her hand towards her key; but M. Fortin stopped her arm.
"No, no!" he said with a giggle. "People who don't pay their hotel-bill sleep out, my darling."
Maxence, that very morning, had received his month's pay, and he felt, as it were, his two hundred francs trembling in his pockets.
Yielding to a sudden inspiration, he threw open the office-door, and, throwing down one hundred and fifty francs upon the table, "Here is your money, wretch!" he exclaimed. And he withdrew at once.