on ten sous a day; the other had coldly resolved to be a dancer, and
to profit by her beauty as much as by her legs that she might buy a
practice for her brother. Outside of their feeling for each other, and
of their mutual life and interests, everything was to them, as it once
was to the Romans and the Hebrews, barbaric, outlandish, and hostile.
This generous affection, which nothing ever lessened, explained
Mariette to those who knew her intimately.

The brother and sister were living at this time on the eighth floor of
a house in the Vieille rue du Temple. Mariette had begun her studies
when she was ten years old; she was now just sixteen. Alas! for want
of becoming clothes, her beauty, hidden under a coarse shawl, dressed
in calico, and ill-kept, could only be guessed by those Parisians who
devote themselves to hunting grisettes and the quest of beauty in
misfortune, as she trotted past them with mincing step, mounted on
iron pattens. Philippe fell in love with Mariette. To Mariette,
Philippe was commander of the dragoons of the Guard, a staff-officer
of the Emperor, a young man of twenty-seven, and above all, the means
of proving herself superior to Florentine by the evident superiority
of Philippe over Giroudeau. Florentine and Giroudeau, the one to
promote his comrade's happiness, the other to get a protector for her
friend, pushed Philippe and Mariette into a "mariage en detrempe,"--a
Parisian term which is equivalent to "morganatic marriage," as applied
to royal personages. Philippe when they left the house revealed his
poverty to Giroudeau, but the old roue reassured him.

"I'll speak to my nephew Finot," he said. "You see, Philippe, the
reign of phrases and quill-drivers is upon us; we may as well submit.
To-day, scribblers are paramount. Ink has ousted gunpowder, and talk
takes the place of shot. After all, these little toads of editors are