"I don't know what I have; but I would like never to leave you again."

"We shall meet again, Colinet; don't forget me. I promise not to forget you."

"Ah! Mamzelle Georgette, that promise makes me very happy!"

And to prove his joy the poor boy burst into tears; then he kissed Georgette and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him, because he felt that if he delayed any longer he would not have the courage to go at all.

Dupont called on his neighbor in the afternoon; he found her sad and thoughtful.

"I opine that the young shepherd has gone," he said.

"Yes, monsieur. He is very lucky: he is going to see my father and mother!"

"No doubt. But it must be very monotonous to look at sheep all the time.

You see, charming Georgette, there's nothing like Paris! It is the home of all pleasures; it is the place to which all the great talents, all the people of renown, come to be applauded! In a word, one really lives in Paris; elsewhere, one only vegetates!"

"If that were true, monsieur, it would be most unfortunate for a great many people, for Paris isn't big enough to hold the whole world. But I think myself that one can be very happy elsewhere, when one is with those whom one loves and is able to confine one's desires within reasonable limits."

"That is true, charming Georgette; you talk like Virgil, or Delille. It was the latter, I believe, who said:

"'Les vrais plaisirs aux champs ont fixe leur sejour; On y craint plus les dieux, on y fait mieux l'amour!'[C]

But as for making love, with all deference to Delille, that can be done very well in Paris; indeed, the art is carried to perfection here; and if you would only be less cruel to me---- But you are distraught! You don't seem to be listening!"

"What did you say, monsieur?"

"There! I was sure of it; you weren't listening to me! But I forgive you; the departure of your childhood's friend has saddened you. Come, you absolutely must have some diversion! To-morrow will be Sunday, and we must enjoy the day. Will you dine with me?"

"With pleasure."

"I will call for you at five o'clock; be ready then. We will dine at Bonvalet's, on the boulevard."

"Wherever you choose; it's all the same to me."

"Well, then, at Bonvalet's; they treat one very well there. Then we will go to one of the theatres opposite. It's all settled; and until then I leave you with your memories. Au revoir, dear neighbor, until to-morrow!"

Dupont took his leave, rubbing his hands and saying to himself:

"To-morrow will see my triumph! Between now and then, I will go to Bonvalet's, I will speak to one of the waiters, I will suborn him in my interest, and I will engage a private dining-room in advance, even though I have to pay its weight in gold!"

VI

A PRIVATE DINING-ROOM

The next day, punctually at five o'clock, Dupont appeared. He found Georgette dressed in her best clothes, but still pensive and careworn.

"Decidedly, you regret your childhood's friend too much," said Dupont, with a smile. "You were always so light-hearted, singing all the time--I should hardly recognize you now!"

"It isn't Colinet's going away that makes me thoughtful."

"Oho! it isn't that? Then there's something else, is there?"

"Perhaps so."

"Something which you will confide to me?"

"I think not."

"In that case, let us go to dinner."

They went to the restaurant on Boulevard du Temple. As they were about to ascend the flight of stairs leading to the first floor, three gentlemen who seemed to have dined very well came down. One of them, finding himself face to face with Dupont, uttered an exclamation of surprise as he looked at him, and slapped him on the back.

"Well, upon my word!" he cried; "this is an unexpected meeting! It's Dupont, dear old Dupont! What does this mean? You are in Paris, and haven't been to see me?"

Dupont turned scarlet, he hung his head, and stammered:

"Ah! is it you, Jolibois? Bonjour! How are you? Adieu!"

And he tried to pa.s.s with Georgette, who had his arm.

But Monsieur Jolibois caught him by the sleeve, and continued:

"Well! do you hurry away like this when you meet a friend? When did you leave Brives-la-Gaillarde? Is your wife with you? Don't run away, I say; I'm very glad to see you. Poor Dupont! Do you still sleep like a marmot?

For that's all you did when I was at Brives-la-Gaillarde, and your wife complained of it. Ha! ha! she complained bitterly, did your dear spouse!"

Dupont was on the rack; if he had dared, he would have struck his friend Jolibois, to make him relax his hold, at the risk of knocking him downstairs. He tried to release his arm, muttering:

"You have been dining, Jolibois, and dining very well, I should judge.

But madame and I have not dined, and we would like to join our friends, who are waiting for us upstairs. I'll call on you; but let me go now, Jolibois; I promise you that I'll call to see you.--Come, my dear madame, they are waiting for us."

With another jerk, Dupont succeeded in shaking off his persecutor. He hurried Georgette upstairs, leaving his friend Jolibois, who looked after them, crying:

"Ah! you rascal! you think you can fool me! But I can guess--I see what's up! You're a rascal, Dupont! But don't be afraid: I won't tell your wife."

Georgette did not say a word; she took pity on her escort's pitiable state. They reached the landing on the first floor. Dupont recognized his waiter and said to him:

"Waiter, we would like a table in one of the public rooms."

"There isn't one, monsieur; they're all taken. It's very hard to get one on Sunday, unless you come much earlier than this. But I happen to have a private room, just vacated; I will give you that."

Dupont glanced at Georgette, who replied:

"We wish to dine in a public room. Let us take a turn on the boulevard; we will come back in a little while, and probably we shall find a table then."