THE DOOR OPENS.
On arriving at the door of the house, poor Henri was seized by his usual hesitation.
"Courage!" said he to himself.
But before knocking, he looked once more behind him, and saw the bright light shining through the windows of the hotel.
"There," said he, "enter for love and joy, people who are invited almost without desiring; why have I not a tranquil and careless heart? Perhaps I might enter there also, instead of vainly trying here."
Ten o'clock struck. Henri lifted the knocker and struck once, then again.
"There," said he, listening, "there is the inner door opening, the stairs creaking, the sound of steps approaching, always the same thing."
And he knocked again.
"There," said he, "he peeps through the trellis-work, sees my pale face, and goes away, always withou
