"Not I! I have been to the Porte St. Martin, over and over again. Emile
knew one of the scene-painter's assistants, and used to get tickets two
or three times a month."

"Then it shall be the Opera Comique," said I, with a sigh.

"And on Tuesday evening next."

"On Tuesday evening next."

At this moment the piping and fiddling broke out afresh, and Josephine,
who had scarcely taken the little telescope from her eye all the time,
exclaimed that she saw the wedding party going through the market-place
of the town.

"There they are--the musicians first; the bride and bridegroom next; and
eight friends, all two and two! There will be a dance, depend on it! Let
us go down to the town, and hear all about it! Perhaps they might invite
us to join them--who knows?"

"But you would not dance before dinner?"

"_Eh, mon Dieu_! I would dance before breakfast, if I had the chance.
Come along. If we do not make haste, we may miss them."

I rose, feeling, and I daresay, looking, like a martyr; and we went down
again into the town.

There we inquired of the first person who seemed likely to know--he was