always new effects. And then the night for the song is arrived. It has
rained all day, and they have walked together in the rain--the singer,
and the men who loved her, both--to the little cafe-concert where she
would appear.

They tremble in the room, among the crowd, Pitou and Tricotrin; they
are agitated. There are others who sing--it says nothing to them. In
the room, in the Future, there is only Paulette!

It is very hot in the cafe-concert, and there is too much noise. At
last they ask her: "Is she nervous?" She shakes her head: "Mais non!"
She smiles to them.

Attend! It is her turn. Ouf; but it is hot in the cafe-concert, and
there is too much noise! She mounts the platform. The audience are
careless; it continues, the jingle of the glasses, the hum of talk. She
begins. Beneath the table Tricotrin has gripped the hand of Pitou.

Wait! Regard the crowd that look at her! The glasses are silent, now,
hein? The talk has stopped. To a great actress is come her chance.
There is _not_ too much noise in the cafe-concert!

But, when she finished! What an uproar! Never will she forget it. A
thousand times she has told the story, how it was written--the song--
and how it made her famous. Before two weeks she was the attraction of
the Ambassadeurs, and all Paris has raved of Paulette Fleury.

Tricotrin and Pitou were mad with joy. Certainly Paris did not rave of
Pitou nor Tricotrin--there have not been many that remembered who wrote
the song; and it earned no money for them, either, because it was hers