gestures.

"What a mob!" said Amedee, already a trifle disgusted. "Let us go into
the garden."

They were blinded by the gas there; the thickets looked so much like old
scenery that one almost expected to see the yellow breastplates of comic-
opera dragoons; and the jet of water recalled one of those little spurts
of a shooting-gallery upon which an empty egg-shell dances. But they
could breathe there a little.

"Boy! two sodas," said Maurice, striking the table with his cane; and the
two friends sat down near the edge of a walk where the crowd passed and
repassed. They had been there about ten minutes when two women stopped
before them.

"Good-day, Maurice," said the taller, a brunette with rich coloring, the
genuine type of a tavern girl.

"What, Margot!" exclaimed the young man. "Will you take something? Sit
down a moment, and your friend too. Do you know, your friend is
charming? What is her name?"

"Rosine," replied the stranger, modestly, for she was only about
eighteen, and, in spite of the blond frizzles over her eyes, she was not
yet bold, poor child! She was making her debut, it was easy to see.

"Well, Mademoiselle Rosine, come here, that I may see you," continued
Maurice, seating the young girl beside him with a caressing gesture.
"You, Margot, I authorize to be unfaithful to me once more in favor of my