Nanteuil and I are the best of friends." Madame Doulce, hedged in on either side by the onlookers, came slowly down the steps, indulging herself in the illusion that the crowd was whispering, "That's Doulce!" She seized Nanteuil as she was passing, pressed her to her bosom, and with a beautiful gesture of Christian charity enveloped her in her mantle, saying through her sobs: "Try to pray, my child, and accept this medal.

It has been blessed by the Pope.

A Dominican Father gave it to me." Madame Nanteuil, who was a little out of breath, but was growing young again since she had renewed her experience of love, was the last to come out.

Durville pressed her hand.
"Poor Chevalier!" he murmured.
"His was not a bad character," answered Madame Nanteuil, "but he showed a lack of tact.

A man of the world does not commit suicide in such a manner.