Mademoiselle Rosette danced on with undiminished ardor, but I felt that mine was rapidly giving out; my voice was dying away, and there were moments when I did not make a sound. After watching us for some time, FrÉdÉrique took her place at the piano and began to play a polka for us.

Then there was no longer any reason why we should stop; I did not need to sing, it is true, but I did need the leg of a Hercules to keep pace with my partner, who exclaimed when she heard the music:

"Oh! that's fine! How much better we go with the piano!—Not quite so fast, madame, please! The polka isn't like the waltz."

But I could do no more; I stopped and threw myself into a chair. Mademoiselle Rosette thereupon concluded to sit down; and as she took out her handkerchief to wipe her face, she dropped a thimble, two skeins of cotton, a piece of cake, two sous, a spool of thread, a card, a lump of sugar, a skein of silk, and three plums.

She got down on all fours to pick them up, then glanced at the clock and cried:

"Mon Dieu! half-past one! To think that I've been here an hour and a half, and I didn't mean to stay five minutes! Oh! what a trouncing I shall get! luckily, I don't care a hang! Adieu, Monsieur What's-your-name! I'm going."

She had already left the salon; I hurried after her and overtook her in the reception room, and, seizing her around the waist, said:

"When shall I see you again?"

"Dame! I don't know; whenever you say."

"Will you dine with me to-morrow?"

"Dine with you? Yes, I'd like to."

"Will you be on Passage VendÔme at five o'clock?"

"No, no! not on Passage VendÔme; that's too near my employer's; someone might see me. Better go where we met first, on Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle, in front of the Gymnase."

"Very good; at five o'clock?"

"That's too early; half-past five."

"Half-past five it is. Until to-morrow, then!"

"Yes; adieu!"

I kissed her, and she ran down the stairs four at a time. I returned to the salon. FrÉdÉrique's face wore a singular expression. She pretended to laugh, but her merriment seemed forced to me.

"Will you forgive me for leaving you alone a moment while I said a word to that young woman?" I said, as I sat down beside her.

"Why, of course! Do friends stand on ceremony with one another?"

"You see, I have taken advantage of the permission you gave me."

"You have done well.—Ha! ha! ha!"

"Why do you laugh?"

"Because you looked so comical, polking with that grisette just now. I had so little expectation of finding a ball in progress here!—Ha! ha! ha! I was speechless."

"By the way, how did you come in?"

"Through the door, naturally; I rang, and your servant admitted me. But you were so hard at work with your dancing that you didn't hear me—apparently.—Ha! ha! ha!"

"Oho! my servant admitted you, did he? I sent him on an errand and forbade him to return before two o'clock. The rascal! he couldn't restrain his curiosity, and he came back before the time."

"I disturbed you—I am very sorry. But it seemed to me that you had had enough; you were on your last legs. Fichtre! what a dancer that damsel is! You and I dance very well together—they took us for artists from the OpÉra, you know; but if you had polked with your friend at Monsieur Bocal's ball, they would have carried you both in triumph, like Musard.—Ha! ha! ha!"

"You are in a satirical mood, FrÉdÉrique."

"Satirical with you? Bless my soul! it seems to me that that would be very unbecoming of me. You amuse yourself, you enjoy life, you know how to make the most of your best days—and you are quite right! I may envy your happiness, but certainly not laugh at it, I who can no longer do anything but bore myself and other people too."

She said these last words in a most melancholy tone, and her eyes were wet with tears.

"What's that you say about boring other people, FrÉdÉrique?" I said, taking her hand. "You didn't make that wicked remark for my benefit, I trust; if you did, it is absolutely false."

She hastily withdrew her hand.

"No, no!" she cried; "I don't know what I am saying, or what I am thinking about! Come, let us talk, my dear friend; who is this girl that I found with you?"

"She—why, she's a grisette; and a very pretty one, too, is she not?"

"Yes, that may be. She lisps when she talks."

"Oh! really now! Once in a while, there's something that makes her voice tremble, it is true, but it isn't at all disagreeable; quite the contrary."

"That's a matter of taste. Some men like women who lisp, just as some like red hair. I have known some who even went so far as to adore women with a limp."

"Oh! how caustic you are to-day, FrÉdÉrique!"

"And this beauty, with the quivering voice—how long have you known her?"

"Since day before yesterday."

"Peste! she's quite new! And the acquaintance is already—complete; you have nothing else to wish for?"

"Oh! I beg your pardon. We don't go so fast."

"But I should say that you go at quite a good pace. If the young lady should prove cruel, I should be much surprised."

"I trust that she won't be to-morrow."

"Ah! you are to see her again to-morrow?"

"Yes, we dine together; we have made the appointment, it's all arranged."

FrÉdÉrique abruptly sprang to her feet and walked to the window. She remained there some time. When she came back to me, I was surprised at her pallor.

"Do you feel ill?" I asked, hastening to meet her.

"No; I—I—was looking at the weather. Well! so you really have ceased entirely to think of Armantine?"

"What has induced you to mention that lady to me? What idea have you in your head?"

"A perfectly natural one. I am still surprised to find that you have forgotten her. Do you know that she has left Passy?"

"How should I know that? Do you suppose that I have been to Passy?"

"Oh, no! that is true. Well, Armantine has left the neighborhood of the Bois. She hasn't told me where she has gone; apparently, she isn't anxious to see me again. That's as she pleases: one should never force one's self upon anybody. But I see that you are not listening to me! I forgive you: you are so engrossed by your new conquest and your blissful meeting to-morrow!—But I am forgetting that I have some business to attend to."

As she spoke, she put on her bonnet, which she had tossed on a table when she took her seat at the piano.

"What! you are going to leave me already?"

"Yes—I, too—somebody's waiting for me—I too have an appointment. Did you think that that was impossible?"

"In what a tone you say that! I thought simply that, in that case, you would have taken me into your confidence."

"Perhaps so. I can't tell all my sentiments so easily as you can."

"Then you have less confidence in me than I have in you."

"That is possible."

"But that is very unkind!"

"Tell me, how long will this new love of yours last?"

"My relations with Mademoiselle Rosette?—for you mustn't call it love."

"What is it, then?"

"It is a little liaison of no consequence—for amusement."

"Give it whatever name you choose. Well, how long will this little liaison of no consequence, for amusement, be likely to last?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know."

"It's rather hard for me to answer. How is it possible to say? You see, I know nothing of the girl's temperament. Such liaisons sometimes end in a week; sometimes they last three months."

"All right. Then I will come again three months hence."

"What does this mean? Why do you leave me so?"

"Because it seems to me that I always arrive most inopportunely and disturb you in the midst of your pleasures; and I shall do well not to intrude again, so long as you are—infatuated with this grisette."

"Really, FrÉdÉrique, I can't understand you! What connection can there possibly be between my follies, my amourettes, my momentary pleasures, and our delightful friendship?"

"Oh! you are quite right! Of course, there is not the slightest connection between me and your pleasures. Ah, me! I certainly do not know what I am saying to-day; my wits are all topsy-turvy. But, adieu! I repeat, I have an appointment; I must leave you. Adieu!"

"But I shall see you again soon?"

"Yes, soon."

She left the room. There were days when I was utterly at a loss to understand that woman's changing moods.

"Ah! here's Monsieur Pomponne! Just come this way, O faithful and, above all, obedient servitor!"

Pomponne hung his head and stood in front of me, like a Cossack awaiting the knout.

"What did I tell you when I sent you out this morning?"

"You told me, monsieur, that it would take me till two o'clock at least. But I hurried and got back earlier. Monsieur tells me sometimes that I am slow, and I wanted to prove that I could be quick."

"You have proved that you are a prying rascal—that's what you have proved! Another time, if you don't carry out my orders to the letter, I will discharge you."

"You didn't give me any letter, monsieur."

"Enough; off with you, or I may give you something else!"

The next day, at half-past five, I was at the place Mademoiselle Rosette had appointed; in a few moments, I saw my new conquest approaching; she did not keep me waiting, that was another excellent quality.

For this occasion Mademoiselle Rosette had made a toilet; she wore a green merino dress, a pretty shawl, a black velvet bonnet, with a tulle veil. It was all very becoming to her; moreover, her costume was suitable, without being pretentious; that fact denoted good taste.

I offered her my arm, and she smilingly accepted it. We walked toward the cab stand. I put her into a little citadine, and as we drove away I began the conversation with a kiss; that leads at once to intimacy. My companion accepted the situation with the best grace imaginable. We were very good friends in short order.

"Where are you taking me?" inquired Rosette.

"To a restaurant."

"Is it very far?"

"Near the Jardin des Plantes, opposite the OrlÉans station—the Arc-en-Ciel. It seems to me that if we get away from the crowd, we shall be more at liberty, more at home. You're in no hurry, are you?"

"Oh, no! that is to say, provided I'm at home at eleven o'clock."

"Then we have plenty of time before us. By the way, where do you live?"

"Suppose I don't choose to tell you?"

"It shall be exactly as you choose."

"I was joking. I live on Faubourg Saint-Denis, corner of Rue Chabrol."

"The deuce! that's well up in the faubourg! And you go back there alone, at night, when you leave your work?"

"To be sure!"

"And you're not afraid?"

"What should I be afraid of? Besides, I always have body-guards, men who follow me and protect me. But, speaking of that, monsieur, who was that lady who came to see you while we were polking? and who stayed there after I went, and looked at me as if she meant to count my eyelashes?"

"That lady is a friend of mine."

"I understand: she's your mistress!"

"I assure you that she is not. If she were, I should have no reason to conceal the fact."

"Oh! I don't know. There are some ladies who don't want to be given away—when they're married, for instance."

"Once more, I assure you that she is a friend, and nothing more."

"Oh! a friend! I know what that means! So she's an old one, eh?"

"Neither old nor new. Do you suppose that, if that lady were my mistress, she would be obliging enough, when she found me dancing with you, to sit down at the piano and be our orchestra?"

"Oh! but she played the polka fast enough to spoil our wind in a second. It was no use for me to call out: 'A little slower, please, madame!' she didn't listen to me, but banged and banged away! It was a sly trick to wind us both. Oh! I'm not so stupid as you think!"

"But I have never thought that you were stupid; far from it!"

"Really! tell me, do you think I am bright?"

"I think you are charming."

"That's no answer; I might be charming, and still be stupid. However, I don't care; as long as I please you, and you love me a little—I mean much; I want to be loved much—that's all I ask."

She said all this with an abandon, a vivacity, which proved, at all events, that she did not stop to pick her words.

We arrived at the restaurant; I need not say that I had taken my conquest to an establishment where there were cosily furnished private dining-rooms. I also think it needless to add that I began by dismissing the waiter, who attempted to insist upon serving us at once, by telling him that I would prepare my order and ring for him when we wanted to dine. I was very glad to have an interview with Mademoiselle Rosette, uninterrupted by the constant going and coming of a waiter.

At last we were left alone. I was able to converse at my ease with my pretty workgirl, to whom our conversation was equally agreeable and who sustained her part excellently. I was enchanted with Mademoiselle Rosette! Long live the women who do not make a thousand and one grimaces before coming to what they have never intended to refuse! Ah! if only one could believe that they did have that intention, and yielded to the power of sentiment, to the ascendency of our passion alone! But it is impossible to believe that. Whenever a woman agrees to go to a private dining-room with a man, it means that she does not propose to be severe.

In due course, we dined; we had the most voracious appetites. We were as gay as larks; embarrassment and reserve had vanished. There is nothing superior to a little tender conversation for putting us in a good humor at once, and putting to flight that indefinable constraint which takes wing only when a woman has ceased to keep us at any distance.

Rosette and I were like people who had known each other for six months. She ate like an ogre and drank like a porter. She was a model grisette! a table companion of the sort that puts you on your mettle and excites you! Don't talk to me of the women who never have any appetite, who barely nibble at their food, and leave untouched all that you put on their plate. They call everything bad, and end by preventing you from eating. What depressing companions! With them, you spend quite as much—yes, more; for you never know what to order to stir them up, and you always dine wretchedly.

But with Rosette how different it was! how we made the oysters disappear, and the soup, and the beef-steak; the fish and game and vegetables and sweetmeats and dessert! She ate the last dish with as much gusto as the first. Oh! fascinating girl, I admired thee! I revered thee! I would have erected a column to thee, had I been Lucullus! But thou wert as well pleased with a charlotte russe! And thou wert right: columns remain, but charlotte russes pass away; and that was what we wanted.

We drank chablis, pomard, madeira, and came at last to champagne. Rosette confessed that she adored that wine; as for the others, I was pleased to see that she had a friendly feeling for them as well. She laughingly emptied her glass, saying:

"I'd have you know that I never get tipsy."

A moment later, she cried:

"Oh! but I say, I am drinking too much; I'm beginning to be dizzy!"

In another instant, she assumed a sentimental expression.

"O my friend!" she said; "if I should be drunk, what would you say to me? You might not love me any more! That would make me very unhappy!"

But I kissed her and drank with her, and her fears were succeeded by bursts of merriment.

The more one drinks, the more one talks, unless one happens to be melancholy in one's cups, and my grisette was not so constituted.

While we dined, she told me her whole history; I knew her family as well as if I were her cousin. She was an orphan, but her seven aunts took care of her. It seemed to me that their watchfulness resembled that of the Seven Sleepers. That is one of the inconveniences of having too many aunts: each of them probably relied on the others to keep an eye on Rosette.

Now her aunts wanted her to marry, and each one had a match in view for her; the result being that there were seven aspirants for the hand of my friend, who reminded me of the Seven Children of Lara. Thus Mademoiselle Rosette had only too many to choose from, to say nothing of the fact that she had several young men who were paying court to her, for the good motive, without the knowledge of her aunts.

"Perhaps you don't believe me! But I'll show you; I always have letters from some of my suitors in my pocket. I want you to read them; they'll make you laugh."

And Rosette set about emptying her pockets, which led us to the disclosure of a multitude of things, such as scissors, skeins of cotton, crusts of bread, visiting cards, copper coins, barley sugar, ribbons, braid, chalk, specimens of dry goods, orange peel, etc., etc. I told her that she should empty her pockets on the boulevard and shout:

"Here's what's left from the sale! Come, messieurs and mesdames, take your choice; this is what's left from the sale!"

Rosette insisted that I should read her letters from her adorers. I found in them the following sentiments:

"Ah! mademoiselle, what a sudden spasm I felt throughout my being when I saw your shadow on the curtain!"

Or this: "Fatality collects and heaps up like a block of granite on my breast the circumstances that compel me to idolize you."

I soon had enough of that; I refused to read any more and returned the scrawls to Rosette, saying:

"I'll wager that your lovers have long, flying hair, uncombed beards, and artist's hats?"

"That is true! How did you guess that?"

"My dear love, when a man writes in that style, he doesn't dress like other people."

The hour arrived when we must think of returning. The time had passed very quickly; that is the greatest praise one can give a tÊte-À-tÊte.

I put Mademoiselle Rosette in a cab again—she was slightly exhilarated—and said:

"I will escort you to Faubourg Saint-Denis."

She seemed to consider.

"Aren't you going home?" I continued.

"How stupid you are! Where do you suppose I'm going? But, you see, I have quite a choice; I can go and sleep at another one of my aunts', if I choose—it doesn't matter which, I have a bed with each of them; I might sleep in the Marais, for I have an aunt on Rue Pont-aux-Choux."

"Pardieu! that's convenient, isn't it? So, when you want to pass the night with your lover, you tell one aunt that you've been with another one, and so on. Oh! fortunate niece! I have known lots of nieces, but very few in so pleasant a position as you occupy."

"Oh! come, don't laugh at me! Let me tell you, monsieur, that my aunts see each other very often; and so, if I should lie and say I had passed the night with one of them when I hadn't, they'd soon find it out, and I shouldn't have a very nice time."

"Forgive me, dear love! I didn't mean to offend you!"

"Kiss me. When shall I see you again?"

"When you are willing."

"I'll come to see you Thursday, about two. Will you wait for me?"

"Most certainly."

"And you'll take care that your friend don't come and disturb us; if she does, I'll make a scene with her. I'm very jealous, let me tell you. You love me, don't you? Ah! you've made me tipsy, you see, and I don't know what I'm saying."

I reassured Rosette and left her on Faubourg Saint-Denis, where she had finally decided to go. She was a very attractive girl, her conversation was amusing, and her person most alluring. But I was sorry that she had a tent pitched in every quarter of Paris; one could never be sure where she had gone into camp.