repayment--it is to you."

"To me, Monsieur? _Dieu merci! Monsieur se moque de moi_!"

And the Dame de Comptoir, intrenched behind her fruits and liqueure
bottles, shot a Parthian glance from under her black eye-lashes, and
made believe to blush.

"Yes, Madame, to you. I only ask permission to come again very soon, for
the purpose of executing a little portrait of Madame--a little portrait
which, alas! _must_ fail to render adequate justice to such a multitude
of charms."

And with this choice compliment, Müller bowed again, took his leave,
bestowed a whole franc upon the astonished waiter, and departed from the
_Toison d'Or_ in an atmosphere of glory.

The fair, or rather that part of the fair where the dancers and diners
most did congregate, was all ablaze with lights, and noisy with brass
bands as we came out. _Ma tante_, who was somewhat tired, and had been
dozing for the last half hour over her coffee and liqueure, was
impatient to get back to Paris. The fair Marie, who was not tired at
all, confessed that she should enjoy a waltz above everything. While
Müller, who professed to be an animated time-table, swore that we were
just too late for the ten minutes past ten train, and that there would
be no other before eleven forty-five. So Madame Marotte was carried off,
_bon gré, mal gré_, to a dancing-booth, where gentlemen were admitted on
payment of forty centimes per head, and ladies went in free.

Here, despite the noise, the dust, the braying of an abominable band,