meet at Bullier's the child whom you once played with. What would have
been astonishing would be to find that I had become a fine lady. I am
not wise, it is true, but I work, and you need not fear that I go with
the first comer. Your friend is a handsome fellow, and very amiable,
and I accepted his attentions because he knew Margot, while with you it
is very different. It gives me pleasure to talk with you. It recalls
Mamma Gerard, who was so kind to me. What has become of her, tell me?
and her husband and her daughters?"

"Monsieur Gerard is dead," replied Amedee; "but the ladies are well, and
I see them often."

"Do not tell them that you met me here, will you? It is better not.
If I had had a good 'mother, like those girls, things would have turned
out differently for me. But, you remember, papa was always interested in
his politics. When I was fifteen years old he apprenticed me to a
florist. He was a fine master, a perfect monster of a man, who ruined
me! I say, Pere Combarieu has a droll trade now; he is manager of a
Republican journal--nothing to do--only a few months in prison now and
then. I am always working in flowers, and I have a little friend, a
pupil at Val-de-Grace, but he has just left as a medical officer for
Algeria. I was lonely all by myself, and this evening big Margot, whom I
got acquainted with in the shop, brought me here to amuse myself. But
you--what are you doing? Your friend said just now that you were a poet.
Do you write songs? I always liked them. Do you remember when I used to
play airs with one finger upon the Gerards' old piano? You were such a
pretty little boy then, and as gentle as a girl. You still have your
nice blue eyes, but they are a little darker. I remember them. No, you
can not know how glad I am to see you again!"