would make her appearance again, to coax for the loan of a smart
blouse, or "that hat with the giant rose and the ostrich plume"--and
Touquet would be as weak as ever.

Judge, then, of his despair when he heard that she had agreed to marry
Pomponnet! She told him the news with the air of an amiable gossip when
she came to return a ball-dress that she had borrowed.

"Enfin," she said--perched on the counter, and swinging her remorseless
feet--"it is arranged; I desert the flowers for the pastry, and become
the mistress of a shop. I shall have to beg from my good friend
monsieur Touquet no more--not at all! I shall be his client, like the
rest. It will be better, hein?"

Touquet groaned. "You know well, Lisette," he answered, "that it has
been a joy to me to place the stock at your disposal, even though it
was to make you more attractive in the eyes of other men. Everything
here that you have worn possesses a charm to me. I fondle the garments
when you bring them back; I take them down from the pegs and dream over
them. Truly! There is no limit to my weakness, for often when a client
proposes to hire a frock that you have had, I cannot bear that she
should profane it, and I say that it is engaged."

"You dear, kind monsieur Touquet," murmured the coquette; "how
agreeable you are!"

"I have always hoped for the day when the stock would be all your own,
Lisette. And by-and-by we might have removed to a better position--
even down the hill. Who knows? We might have opened a business in the
Madeleine quarter. That would suit you better than a little cake-shop