As he was going out one morning to his office, he met on the very landing a rather tall and very dark girl, who had just come running up stairs.  She passed before him like a flash, opened the opposite door, and disappeared.  But, rapid as the apparition had been, it had left in Maxence’s mind one of those impressions which are never obliterated.  He could not think of any thing else the whole day; and after business-hours, instead of going to dine in Rue St. Gilles, as usual, he sent a despatch to his mother to tell her not to wait for him, and bravely went home.

But it was in vain, that, during the whole evening, he kept watch behind his door, left slyly ajar:  he did not get a glimpse of the neighbor.  Neither did she show herself on the next or the three following days; and Maxence was beginning to despair, when at last, on Sunday, as he was going down stairs, he met her again face to face.  He had thought her quite pretty at the first glance:  this time he was dazzled to that extent, that he remained for over a minute, standing like a statue against the wall.

And certainly it was not her dress that helped setting off her beauty.  She wore a poor dress of black merino, a narrow collar, and plain cuffs, and a bonnet of the utmost simplicity.  She had nevertheless an air of incomparable dignity, a grace that charmed, and yet inspired respect, and the carriage of a queen.  This was on the 30th of July.  As he was handing in his key, before leaving,

“My apartment suits me well enough,” said Maxence to Mme. Fortin:  “I shall keep it.  And here are fifty francs for the month of August.”

And, while the landlady was making out a receipt,

“You never told me,” he began with his most indifferent look, “that I had a neighbor.”

Mme. Fortin straightened herself up like an old warhorse that hears the sound of the bugle.

“Yes, yes!” she said,—­“Mademoiselle Lucienne.”

“Lucienne,” repeated Maxence:  “that’s a pretty name.”

“Have you seen her?”

“I have just seen her.  She’s rather good looking.”

The worthy landlady jumped on her chair.  “Rather good looking!” she interrupted.  “You must be hard to please, my dear sir; for I, who am a judge, I affirm that you might hunt Paris over for four whole days without finding such a handsome girl.  Rather good looking!  A girl who has hair that comes down to her knees, a dazzling complexion, eyes as big as this, and teeth whiter than that cat’s.  All right, my friend.  You’ll wear out more than one pair of boots running after women before you catch one like her.”

That was exactly Maxence’s opinion; and yet with his coldest look,

“Has she been long your tenant, dear Mme. Fortin?” he asked.

“A little over a year.  She was here during the siege; and just then, as she could not pay her rent, I was, of course, going to send her off; but she went straight to the commissary of police, who came here, and forbade me to turn out either her or anybody else.  As if people were not masters in their own house!”