Together we left the beautiful room in which this interview had taken place, and crossed the hall. As we approached the entrance, Heliobas turned towards me and said with a smile: "Did not the manoeuvres of my street-door astonish you?"
"A little," I confessed.
"It is very simple. The button you touch outside is electric; it opens the door and at the same time rings the bell in my study, thus informing me of a visitor. When the visitor steps across the threshold he treads, whether he will or no, on another apparatus, which closes the door behind him and rings another bell in my page's room, who immediately comes to me for orders. You see how easy? And from within it is managed in almost the same manner."
And he touched a handle similar to the one outside, and the door opened instantly. Heliobas held out his hand--that hand which a few minutes previously had exercised such strange authority over me.
"Good-bye, mademoiselle. You are not afraid of me now?"
I laughed. "I do not think I was ever really afraid of you," I said. "If I was, I am not so any longer. You have promised me health, and that promise is sufficient to give me entire courage."
"That is well," said Heliobas. "Courage and hope in themselves are the precursors of physical and mental energy. Remember to-morrow at five, and do not keep late hours to-night. I should advise you to be in bed by ten at the latest."
I agreed to this, and we shook hands and parted. I walked blithely along, back to the Avenue du Midi, where, on my arrival indoors, I found a letter from Mrs. Everard. She wrote "in haste" to give me the names of some friends of hers whom she had discovered, through the "American Register," to be staying at the Grand Hotel. She begged me to call upon them, and enclosed two letters of introduction for the purpose. She concluded her epistle by saying: "Raffaello Cellini has been invisible ever since your departure, but our inimitable waiter, Alphonse, says he is very busy finishing a picture for the Salon--something that we have never seen. I shall intrude myself into his studio soon on some pretence or other, and will then let you know all about it. In the meantime, believe me, "Your ever devoted friend, AMY."
I answered this letter, and then spent a pleasant evening at the Pension, chatting sociably with Madame Denise and another cheery little Frenchwoman, a day governess, who boarded there, and who had no end of droll experiences to relate, her enviable temperament being to always see the humorous side of life. I thoroughly enjoyed her sparkling chatter and her expressive gesticulations, and we all three made ourselves merry till bedtime. Acting on the advice of Heliobas, I retired early to my room, where a warm bath had been prepared in compliance with my orders. I uncorked the glass tube No. 1, and poured the colourless fluid it contained into the water, which immediately bubbled gently, as though beginning to boil.