"Who are you?"

"My name is Nicolas Pitou,"

"Of Paris?"

"Of bohemia."

"What do you do in it?"

"Hunger, and make music."

"Unsuccessful?"

"Not to-night!"

"Take me to the Bel Avenir," she said, and sent the carriage away.

De Fronsac, looking back as they departed, was distressed to see the
young man risking his life.

At the Bel Avenir their entrance made a sensation. She removed her
cloak, and Pitou arranged it over two chairs. Then she threw her gloves
out of the way, in the bread-basket; and the waiter and the
proprietress, and all the family, did homage to her toilette.

"Who would have supposed?" she smiled, and her smile forgot to be
mysterious.

"That the restaurant would be so proud?"