We went into a confectioner's in the passage de l'Opera. I would
have bought the whole shop, and I was looking about to see what
sweets to choose, when my friend asked for a pound of raisins
glaces.

"Do you know if she likes them?"

"She eats no other kind of sweets; everybody knows it.

"Ah," he went on when we had left the shop, "do you know what
kind of woman it is that I am going to introduce you to? Don't
imagine it is a duchess. It is simply a kept woman, very much
kept, my dear fellow; don't be shy, say anything that comes into
your head."

"Yes, yes," I stammered, and I followed him, saying to myself
that I should soon cure myself of my passion.

When I entered the box Marguerite was in fits of laughter. I
would rather that she had been sad. My friend introduced me;
Marguerite gave me a little nod, and said, "And my sweets?"

"Here they are."

She looked at me as she took them. I dropped my eyes and blushed.

She leaned across to her neighbour and said something in her ear,
at which both laughed. Evidently I was the cause of their mirth,
and my embarrassment increased. At that time I had as mistress a