For a moment after he was left alone Andre felt very sad, but a happy thought flashed across his brain.
"Sabine," said he, "went away on foot, and I may follow her without injury to her reputation."
In another moment he was in the street, and caught a glimpse of Sabine and her maid under a lamp at the next corner. He crossed to the other side of the way and followed them cautiously.
"Perhaps," murmured he, "the time is not far distant when I shall have the right to be with her in her walks, and feel her arm pressed against mine."
By this time Sabine and her companion had reached the Rue Blanche, and hailing a cab, were rapidly driven away. Andre gazed after it, and as soon as it was out of sight, decided to return to his work. As he passed a brilliantly lighted shop, a fresh young voice saluted him.
He looked up in extreme surprise, and saw a young woman, dressed in the most extravagant style, standing by the door of a brougham, which glittered with fresh paint and varnish. In vain he tried to think who she could be, but at length his memory served him.
"Mademoiselle Rose," said he, "or I am much mistaken."
A shrill, squeaky voice replied, "Madame Zora Chantemille, if you please."