conferred, the comrades. They told the one the other how they loved
her; and then they beat their heads, and besought of Providence a fine
idea for the comic song.

It was their thought supreme. The silk manufacturer has washed his
'ands of Tricotrin, but he has not cared--there remained to him still
one of the bank-notes. As for Pitou, who neglected everything except to
find his melody for Paulette, the publisher has given him the sack.
Their acquaintances ridiculed the sacrifices made for her. But,
monsieur, when a man loves truly, to make a sacrifice for the woman is
to make a present to himself.

Nevertheless I avow to you that they fretted because of her coquetry.
One hour it seemed that Pitou had gained her heart; the next her
encouragement has been all to Tricotrin. Sometimes they have said to
her:

"Paulette, it is true we are as Orestes and Pylades, but there can be
only one King of Eden at the time. Is it Orestes, or Pylades that you
mean to crown?"

Then she would laugh and reply:

"How can I say? I like you both so much I can never make up my mind
which to like best."

It was not satisfactory.

And always she added. "In the meantime, where is the song?"