give no credit."

Chatting thus, and laughing, we made our way across the Boulevard and
through a net-work of by-streets into the Rue Vivienne, where we laid
siege to a great bon-bon shop--a gigantic depot for dyspepsia at so
much per kilogramme--and there filled our pockets with sweets of every
imaginable flavor and color. This done, a cab conveyed us in something
less than ten minutes across the Pont Neuf to the Quartier Latin.

Müller's friends were three in number, and all students--one of art, one
of law, and one of medicine. They lodged at the top of a dingy house
near the Odéon, and being very great friends and very near neighbors
were giving this entertainment conjointly. Their names were Gustave,
Jules, and Adrien. Adrien was the artist, and lived in the garret, just
over the heads of Gustave and Jules, which made it very convenient for a
party, and placed a _suite_ of rooms at the disposal of their visitors.

Long before we had achieved the five pairs of stairs, we heard the sound
of voices and the scraping of a violin, and on the fifth landing were
received by a pretty young lady in a coquettish little cap, whom Müller
familiarly addressed as Annette, and who piloted us into a very small
bed-room which was already full of hats and coats, bonnets, shawls, and
umbrellas. Having added our own paletots and beavers to the general
stock, and having each received a little bit of pasteboard in exchange
for the same, we were shown into the ball-room by Mademoiselle Annette,
who appeared to fill the position of hostess, usher, and general
superintendent.

It was a good-sized room, somewhat low in the ceiling, and brilliantly
lighted with lots of tallow candles in bottles. The furniture had all