M. Costeclar was on the point of pulling out what little hair he had left.

“And I don’t know her!” he went on.  “A lovely woman rides in the Bois, and I don’t know who she is!  That is ridiculous and prodigious!  Who can post us?”

A little ways off stood a group of gentlemen, who had also just left their carriages, and were looking on this interminable procession of equipages and this amazing display of toilets.

“They are friends of mine,” said M. Costeclar:  “let us join them.”

They did so; and, after the usual greetings,

“Who is that?” inquired M. Costeclar,—­“that dark person, whose carriage follows Mme. de Thaller’s?”

An old young man, with scanty hair, dyed beard, and a most impudent smile, answered him,

“That’s just what we are trying to find out.  None of us have ever seen her.”

“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.