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Rh from Paris to Sevres, and when he returned from Auteuil to Paris. He divided his daily trips, and by this happy combination, met half way in his journeys, youth and love.

Six months after the day on which I found my Esmeralda, the family of the mysterious "he" changed their residence, and went to live at St. Denis. Neuilly was no longer on his road, he ceased stopping there. The parlor was never furnished. The girl was forgotten. No recrimination, complaint, nor revenge was feared from her.

She came to see me and told me these circumstances. I had not seen her since the day I gave her breakfast at Gillette's. She asked my advice. I urged her to return to the store she had left if she could get back her former position.

"I have lost the habit of work," she said in an indefinable way, full of regret and apprehension, "but I will try."

"And the kid?"

"I had him, he's a goat now."

A year after, I was stopped by a blockade of carriages on the corner of Rue Royale. Among the many equipages I saw an open carriage drawn by a pair of magnificent bay horses, admirably groomed. The coachman had trouble in checking them. In the caleche filled with flowers, silk, laces, sat a woman whose eyes were fixed on vacancy, her absent-minded air indicating her unconcern at being there or anywhere. It was she again. The carriage grazed the sidewalk where I stood. I imitated the bleating of a goat; she turned. Recognizing me, she blushed, and hid her face in her two hands with a pretty affected movement of shame, her eyes peeping through her fingers. She seemed to say, "I am naughty, but it's not my fault, forgive, and acknowledge that I look pretty."