walls, and the serviettes that are so nice and damp! It was in
restaurants like this, if my salary was paid, I used to sup on fete
days."

"And if it was not paid?"

"I supped in imagination. My dear, I have had a cigarette for a supper,
and the grass for a bed. I have tramped by the caravan while the stars
faded, and breakfasted on the drum in the tent. And you--on a bench in
the Champs Elysees, hein?"

"It has occurred."

"And you watched the sun rise, and made music, and wished _you_
could rise, too? I must hear your music some day. You shall write me a
dance. Is it agreed?"

"The contract is already stamped," said Pitou.

"I am glad I met you--it is the best supper I have had in Paris. Why
are you calculating the expenses on the back of the bill of fare?"

"I am not. I am composing your dance," said Pitou. "Don't speak for a
minute, it will be sublime! Also it will be a souvenir when you have
gone."

But she did not go for a long while. It was late when they left the
Cafe du Bel Avenir, still talking--and there was always more to say. By
this time Pitou did not merely love her beauty--he adored the woman. As
for Florozonde, she no longer merely loved his courage--she approved