woman without occupation, but in the movements of which one devines
all the pleasure that lies asleep. Well, she turned back again, she
saw me, once more she adored me, once more trembled, shivered. It was
then I noticed the genuine Spanish duenna who looked after her, a
hyena upon whom some jealous man has put a dress, a she-devil well
paid, no doubt, to guard this delicious creature. . . . Ah, then the
duenna made me deeper in love. I grew curious. On Saturday, nobody.
And here I am to-day waiting for this girl whose chimera I am, asking
nothing better than to pose as the monster in the fresco."

"There she is," said Paul. "Every one is turning round to look at
her."

The unknown blushed, her eyes shone; she saw Henri, she shut them and
passed by.

"You say that she notices you?" cried Paul, facetiously.

The duenna looked fixedly and attentively at the two young men. When
the unknown and Henri passed each other again, the young girl touched
him, and with her hand pressed the hand of the young man. Then she
turned her head and smiled with passion, but the duenna led her away
very quickly to the gate of the Rue de Castiglione.

The two friends followed the young girl, admiring the magnificent
grace of the neck which met her head in a harmony of vigorous lines,
and upon which a few coils of hair were tightly wound. The girl with
the golden eyes had that well-knitted, arched, slender foot which
presents so many attractions to the dainty imagination. Moreover, she
was shod with elegance, and wore a short skirt. During her course she