"Oui, oui, monsieur, mademoiselle la directrice nous l'a dit elle-même il y a deux ou trois jours."
And I could pursue my inquiries no further; time, place, and circumstances, forbade my adding another word. I could neither comment on what had been said, nor demand further particulars. A question as to the reason of the teacher's departure, as to whether it had been voluntary or otherwise, was indeed on my lips, but I suppressed it—there were listeners all round. An hour after, in passing Sylvie in the corridor as she was putting on her bonnet, I stopped short and asked:—
"Sylvie, do you know Mdlle. Henri's address? I have some books of hers," I added carelessly, "and I should wish to send them to her."
"No, monsieur," replied Sylvie, "but perhaps Rosalie, the portress, will be able to give it you."
Rosalie's cabinet was just at hand; I stepped in and repeated the inquiry. Rosalie—a smart French grisette—looked up from her work with a knowing smile, precisely the sort of smile I had been so
