During the remainder of the winter, the Du Roys often visited the Walters. Georges, too, frequently dined there alone, Madeleine pleading fatigue and preferring to remain at home. He had chosen Friday as his day, and Mme. Walter never invited anyone else on that evening; it belonged to Bel-Ami. Often in a dark corner or behind a tree in the conservatory, Mme. Walter embraced the young man and whispered in his ear: “I love you, I love you! I love you desperately!”

But he always repulsed her coldly, saying: “If you persist in that, I will not come again.”

Toward the end of March people talked of the marriage of the two sisters: Rose was to marry, Dame Rumor said, Count de Latour-Ivelin and Suzanne, the Marquis de Cazolles. The subject of Suzanne’s possible marriage had not been broached again between her and Georges until one morning, the latter having been brought home by M. Walter to lunch, he whispered to Suzanne: “Come, let us give the fish some bread.”

They proceeded to the conservatory in which was the marble basin containing the fish. As Georges and Suzanne leaned over its edge, they saw their reflections in the water and smiled at them. Suddenly, he said in a low voice: “It is not right of you to keep secrets from me, Suzanne.”

She asked:

“What secrets, Bel-Ami?”

“Do you remember what you promised me here the night of the fete?”

“No.”

“To consult me every time you received a proposal.”

“Well?”

“Well, you have received one!”

“From whom?”

“You know very well.”

“No, I swear I do not.”

“Yes, you do. It is from that fop of a Marquis de Cazolles.”

“He is not a fop.”

“That may be, but he is stupid. He is no match for you who are so pretty, so fresh, so bright!”

She asked with a smile: “What have you against him?”

“I? Nothing!”

“Yes, you have. He is not all that you say he is.”

“He is a fool, and an intriguer.”

She glanced at him: “What ails you?”

He spoke as if tearing a secret from the depths of his heart: “I am- -I am jealous of him.”

She was astonished.

“You?”

“Yes, I.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you and you know it”

Then she said severely: “You are mad, Bel-Ami!”

He replied: “I know that I am! Should I confess it — I, a married man, to you, a young girl? I am worse than mad — I am culpable, wretched — I have no possible hope, and that thought almost destroys my reason. When I hear that you are going to be married, I feel murder in my heart. You must forgive me, Suzanne.”

He paused. The young girl murmured half sadly, half gaily: “It is a pity that you are married; but what can you do? It cannot be helped.”

He turned toward her abruptly and said: “If I were free would you marry me?”

She replied: “Yes, Bel-Ami, I would marry you because I love you better than any of the others.”

He rose and stammering: “Thanks — thanks — do not, I implore you, say yes to anyone. Wait a while. Promise me.”

Somewhat confused, and without comprehending what he asked, she whispered: “I promise.”

Du Roy threw a large piece of bread into the water and fled, without saying adieu, as if he were beside himself. Suzanne, in surprise, returned to the salon.

When Du Roy arrived home, he asked Madeleine, who was writing letters: “Shall you dine at the Walters’ Friday? I am going.”

She hesitated: “No, I am not well. I prefer to remain here.”

“As you like. No one will force you.” Then he took up his hat and went out.

For some time he had watched and followed her, knowing all her actions. The time he had awaited had come at length.

On Friday he dressed early, in order, as he said, to make several calls before going to M. Walter’s. At about six o’clock, after having kissed his wife, he went in search of a cab. He said to the cabman: “You can stop at No. 17 Rue Fontaine, and remain there until I order you to go on. Then you can take me to the restaurant Du Coq- Faisan, Rue Lafayette.”

The cab rolled slowly on; Du Roy lowered the shades. When in front of his house, he kept watch of it. After waiting ten minutes, he saw Madeleine come out and go toward the boulevards. When she was out of earshot, he put his head out of the window and cried: “Go on!”

The cab proceeded on its way and stopped at the Coq-Faisan. Georges entered the dining-room and ate slowly, looking at his watch from time to time. At seven-thirty he left and drove to Rue La Rochefoucauld. He mounted to the third story of a house in that street, and asked the maid who opened the door: “Is M. Guibert de Lorme at home?”

“Yes, sir.”

He was shown into the drawing-room, and after waiting some time, a tall man with a military bearing and gray hair entered. He was the police commissioner.

Du Roy bowed, then said: “As I suspected, my wife is with her lover in furnished apartments they have rented on Rue des Martyrs.”

The magistrate bowed: “I am at your service, sir.”

“Very well, I have a cab below.” And with three other officers they proceeded to the house in which Du Roy expected to surprise his wife. One officer remained at the door to watch the exit; on the second floor they halted; Du Roy rang the bell and they waited. In two or three minutes Georges rang again several times in succession. They heard a light step approach, and a woman’s voice, evidently disguised, ............