imagination. But, no matter! I had had enough. She for whom I had come was not there; why should I remain?

I left the theatre. I was weak enough to pace back and forth on the boulevard, in front of the door, hoping that she might come. But the clock struck ten. I decided to go away. I went into a café and read the papers, and about half-past eleven I went home, depressed and shame-faced. Really, that girl was most seductive, and I had fancied that there would be no obstacle to our liaison.

My concierge stopped me.

"A young woman has been here asking for you, monsieur. That is to say, she didn't ask for you, but for that queer name monsieur told me."

My heart expanded; I became as cheerful as I was melancholy a moment before.

"Ah! so the young woman came, did she? A tall, dark girl, with a wide-awake look?"

"Yes, monsieur; that describes her."

"What time did she come?"

"About half-past eight."

"And she asked if Monsieur—the author whose name I gave you—lived here?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"And you answered?"

"I answered yes, as you told me to. I told her that you lived on the second floor, but that you had gone out."

"And then?"

"Then she said she'd come about noon to-morrow, and told me to tell you."

"She will come to-morrow?"

"Yes, monsieur, about noon."

"Very good! very good!"

I was beside myself with joy. I rewarded my concierge, then ran lightly up my two flights. Pomponne opened the door. I went in singing, and said to him:

"To-morrow, Pomponne, about noon, a young grisette will come here."

"Ah! a grisette—a new one?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean one who has not called on monsieur before."

"Why, yes, of course, you idiot! She will ask for——"

"Pardi! she will ask for monsieur."

"Well, no; that is just what she won't do."

"Will she ask for me, then? But I don't expect anybody, monsieur!"

"Oh! how you annoy me with your reflections, Pomponne! She will ask for—— But, no, you would make some infernal blunder; I prefer not to have you here. I will send you on some errand, and let her in myself when she comes."

"What, monsieur! do you distrust me to that extent?"

"Hush! you bore me."

"But if you want her to ask for me, monsieur, I'm willing, I don't refuse."

"Leave me in peace, and go to bed!"

Pomponne went to bed, weeping because I would not allow him to be there on the morrow to admit my young grisette. I fell asleep thinking of Mademoiselle Rosette. Her visit indicated a very earnest wish to make my acquaintance; or was it not due to her having read that name on the ticket? Was it not because she believed me to be a famous author that she had come to my lodgings? All women love renown; grisettes are as susceptible to it as other women. And in that case, when she learned——

"Faith!" said I to myself; "we shall see to-morrow; let's go to sleep."

At noon, I was becomingly dressed; I had sent Pomponne away, with orders not to return before two o'clock, and I impatiently counted the minutes.

I did not count long. The bell rang; I opened the door instantly: it was my grisette, in the same costume as on the day of our first meeting, and with a no less affable expression. She entered without ceremony. I ushered her into my little salon, and invited her to sit on the divan, saying:

"How good of you to come!"

"I came last evening."

"I know it. But why weren't you at the theatre? I was so anxious to meet you there! In fact, it was for you that I sent the box, and not for those others."

"Yes, but I couldn't go; there was work that had to be done, and at such times there's no fun to be had. You saw my employer, Madame Ratapond, and a specimen of my aunts."

"Ah! so those were your aunts; the elderly ladies, I presume?"

"Yes. And my mistress, what did you think of her?"

"She is very good-looking. But it was you that I wanted to see! You are so pretty, and I love you so dearly!"

At this point, I tried to add action to speech; but Mademoiselle Rosette pushed me away and arose, saying:

"In the first place, I want you to let me alone. Stop! stop! you think you can go on like that, right away—— Oh, no! Later, I won't say! We'll see!"

Good! At all events, she gave me ground for hope. I liked her frankness exceedingly.

"In the second place, I must go; yes, I'm in a great hurry. I came here on my way to do an errand; but it wasn't far that I had to go, and my mistress will say: 'There's that Rosette idling again!'"

"Ah! so it seems that you do that sometimes?"

"Yes, sometimes; I don't deny it. I like to stroll along and look in the shop windows."

"Sit down a moment."

She did so, and said, after looking about the room:

"Monsieur—is it really true that it's you?"

"That it's I?—why—— What do you mean?"

"Why, you know, yesterday, when I saw your name on the ticket, I shouted for joy, and I said: 'What! that gentleman who spoke to me is the one who writes the plays I like so much and go to see so often!'—Oh! I tell you, I was pleased then, and that's why I came right here last night: I remembered your address, and I asked if it was really you that lived in this house; and the concierge said yes, and I told him I'd come again to-morrow, at noon. Well! does that make you angry? you don't say anything."

"No; it doesn't make me angry. But I was thinking."

"I say, monsieur, do you know I'm mad over your plays? If I should go mad over you too——"

"There's no danger of that."

"What's that? there's no danger? What makes you say: 'There's no danger'? Perhaps you don't know that I take fire very quickly, I do!"

That young woman was decidedly original. She said whatever came into her head, without beating about the bush. I liked that frankness, in which there was something like artlessness. Mademoiselle Rosette was neither stupid, nor pretentious, nor prudish. She was a perfect little phœnix, was that grisette. I began by kissing her; she defended herself feebly, or, rather, she allowed herself to be kissed without too much fuss; but when I attempted to go further, she defended herself very stoutly, crying:

"I said: 'Not to-day!'—So, no nonsense; it's a waste of time!"

"Well, when, then?"

"Oh! we'll see; we've got time enough. Do you like me?"

"What a question! Many other men must like you, for you know well enough that you're as pretty as a peach."

"Oh, yes! I know that; people tell me so every day."

"Lovers?"

"Lovers and flatterers and chance acquaintances—what do I know? I can't go out without being followed, and it's sickening!"

"Come, Mademoiselle Rosette, tell me frankly: have you had many—lovers?"

"Lovers! I should think not! No, I've never had but one."

"That's very modest! And you loved him dearly, I suppose?"

"Why, yes."

"Why did you separate?"

She looked down at the floor, heaved a profound sigh, and murmured:

"Alas! he died, my poor Léon!"

"Oh! forgive me for reminding you of so sad a loss."

"Yes; he died—a little more than a year ago."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty. They've wanted to marry me off seventeen times already; but I won't have it; I haven't any taste for marriage. I am right, ain't I?"

"If you have no inclination for marriage, you will certainly do quite as well to remain free."

"Free, that's it! What fun it is to do just what one wants to do! In the first place, I should make a husband very unhappy! And in the second place, how can I marry, now? I don't choose to deceive anyone, and I certainly wouldn't hold myself out for something that I'm not any more."

"You are right, mademoiselle; you shouldn't have any secrets from the man you bind