“Will you think of me?”

“How can you ask?” replied Quennebert, with a sentimental expression.  “You have compelled me to accept the money, but—­I shall not be happy till I have repaid you.  Suppose this loan should make us fall out?”

“You may be quite sure that if you don’t pay when the bill falls due, I shall have recourse to the law.”

“Oh, I know that very well.”

“I shall enforce all my rights as a creditor.”

“I expect nothing else.”

“I shall show no pity.”

And the widow gave a saucy laugh and shook her finger at him.

“Madame Rapally,” said the notary, who was most anxious to bring this conversation to an end, dreading every moment that it would take a languishing tone,-"Madame Rapally, will you add to your goodness by granting me one more favour?”

“What is it?”

“The gratitude that is simulated is not difficult to bear, but genuine, sincere gratitude, such as I feel, is a heavy burden, as I can assure you.  It is much easier to give than to receive.  Promise me, then, that from now till the year is up there shall be no more reference between us to this money, and that we shall go on being good friends as before.  Leave it to me to make arrangements to acquit myself honourably of my obligations towards you.  I need say no more; till a year’s up, mum’s the word.”

“It shall be as you desire, Maitre Quennebert,” answered Madame Rapally, her eyes shining with delight.  “It was never my intention to lay you under embarrassing obligations, and I leave it all to you.  Do you know that I am beginning to believe in presentiments?”

“You becoming superstitious!  Why, may I ask?”

“I refused to do a nice little piece of ready-money business this morning.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, because I had a sort of feeling that made me resist all temptation to leave myself without cash.  Imagine!  I received a visit to-day from a great lady who lives in this house—­in the suite of apartments next to mine.”

“What is her name?”

“Mademoiselle de Guerchi.”

“And what did she want with you?”

“She called in order to ask me to buy, for four hundred livres, some of her jewels which are well worth six hundred, for I understand such things; or should I prefer it to lend her that sum and keep the jewels as security?  It appears that mademoiselle is in great straits.  De Guerchi—­do you know the name?”

“I think I have heard it.”

“They say she has had a stormy past, and has been greatly talked of; but then half of what one hears is lies.  Since she came to live here she has been very quiet.  No visitors except one—­a nobleman, a duke—­wait a moment!  What’s his name?  The Duc-Duc de Vitry; and for over three weeks even he hasn’t been near her.  I imagine from this absence that they have fallen out, and that she is beginning to feel the want of money.”