I felt sure there was some disappointment in love at the bottom of it.

Her mother and I looked about, and we cudgelled our brains to find out what it could be.

One morning Madame Chebe came into my room weeping, and said, 'You are the man she loves, my dear friend!'-- And I was the man--I was the man! Bless my soul! Whoever would have suspected such a thing?
And to think that in the same year I had those two great pieces of good fortune--a partnership in the house of Fromont and married to Sidonie--Oh!" At that moment, to the strains of a giddy, languishing waltz, a couple whirled into the small salon.

They were Risler's bride and his partner, Georges Fromont.

Equally young and attractive, they were talking in undertones, confining their words within the narrow circle of the waltz.
"You lie!" said Sidonie, slightly pale, but with the same little smile.
And the other, paler than she, replied: "I do not lie.