as myself?"

"Viscount," replied Musette, "one day when I was driving in the Champs
Elysees with Lord _____, I met Marcel and his friend Rodolphe, both on
foot, both ill dressed, muddy as water-dogs, and smoking pipes. I had
not seen Marcel for three months, and it seemed to me as if my heart was
going to jump out of the carriage window. I stopped the carriage, and
for half an hour I chatted with Marcel before the whole of Paris,
filing past in its carriages. Marcel offered me a sou bunch of violets
that I fastened in my waistband. When he took leave of me, Lord _____
wanted to call him back to invite him to dinner with us. I kissed him
for that. That is my way, my dear Monsieur Maurice, if it does not suit
you you should say so at once, and I will take my slippers and my
nightcap."

"It is sometimes a good thing to be poor then," said Vicomte Maurice,
with a look of envious sadness.

"No, not at all," said Musette. "If Marcel had been rich I should never
have left him."

"Go, then," said the young fellow, shaking her by the hand. "You have
put your new dress on," he added, "it becomes you splendidly."

"That is so," said Musette. "It is a kind of presentiment I had this
morning. Marcel will have the first fruits of it. Goodbye, I am off to
taste a little of the bread of gaiety."

Musette was that day wearing a charming toilette. Never had the poem of
her youth and beauty been set off by a more seductive binding. Besides,