In two minutes she returned with my pretty friend, radiant as the sunlight with happiness and renewed hope.  Antoine loved her more than ever, she said, and he had brought her a beautiful present, a silver cross, which she meant to wear on her wedding-day, tied round her throat upon the bit of tinsel ribbon I had given her, and which matched it exactly.  And was the wedding-day fixed?  I asked.  No, not the precise day; Antoine had said nothing about it; but he had spoken much of his love; and of the happiness in store for them both, and of the lovely things he should give her.  The day was nothing; that could be settled in a minute at any time.  Then she fetched me some lace she had made, and told me that Antoine knew of a rich lady who would buy it,—­a marquise, who doated on lace of the sort, and who gave enormous sums for a few yards; and the money would do for her dot, it would buy her wedding-dress, perhaps.  So she prattled on, blithe and ingenuous, the frank simplicity of her guileless soul reflected in the clear depths of her eyes, as the light of heaven is mirrored in pure waters.

Days went by, and weeks, but Antoine never came to see me, and whenever I called at Madame Jeannel’s and asked for Noemi—­which I ventured to do several times, now that the good woman knew she was engaged to be married, and understood so well our relations with each other—­I always heard the same story; and always received, on Antoine’s behalf, the same vague excuses for the postponement of the visit I had invited him to pay me.  At one time, he bade Noemi tell me his work was too pressing, and he could find no time to come; at another, that he feared to disturb me, knowing I was very busy; and again, that he had been just about to start when an important letter or an inopportune customer had arrived and detained him.  As for the wedding-day, he would never come to the point about it, and Noemi, naturally shy of the subject, never pressed him.  She was quite happy and confident; Antoine loved her with all his heart, and told her so every day.  What more could she want?  He brought her lovely bunches of red and white roses, little trinkets, sweetmeats, ribbons; indeed, he seemed never to come empty-handed.  She used to take walks with him when his day’s work was over, in the Luxembourg gardens, and once or twice they went out as far as the Champs-Elysees.  Oh, yes, Antoine loved her dearly, and she was very happy; they should certainly be married before long.  We were already in November, the days were getting bleak and chill, I had to light my lamp early and close my windows against the damp evening air.  One afternoon, just as it was beginning to grow dark, Madame Jeannel came to see me, looking very disturbed and anxious.