"Come, my dear Raymond, come; let's take coffee together."

"I can't do it, my friend; I am here for a purpose, you see. I am watching Agathe; I want to speak to her."

"You can speak to her later; come on with me."

"No; this seems to me a favorable moment; she doesn't take her eyes off me."

The little traitress was, in truth, making the most ridiculous faces at him, for fear he would go away. Monsieur Raymond, who had never known her to look at him like that, and who saw that all the shopgirls had their eyes on him, was beside himself with delight; he swaggered along, leaning on his cane; to no purpose did I pull him by the arm, it was impossible to induce him to lose sight of the milliner's shop. But he noticed the crowd a.s.sembled a few steps away.

"There's something over yonder; let's see what it is."

"Pshaw! it isn't worth while; an offer of a reward for a lost dog, or an advertis.e.m.e.nt of some new oil to prevent the hair from falling out or turning white."

"I tell you, my dear fellow, those oils aren't to be despised! For my part, I try every one that comes out; I must confess that they often give me a headache, but a man must risk something to retain his youth, you must agree. However, I don't think that's what they're looking at; see how they're all laughing! It must be something very amusing."

"Don't you know that in Paris the merest trifle is enough to collect a hundred people?"

"No matter; I want to see what it is; I like to laugh when I have an opportunity. I'll come back in a minute and tell you about it."

It was impossible to keep him away; he had already crossed the gutter with an agility of which I had not deemed him capable; and there he was in the crowd, forcing his way to the front with hands and elbows. The milliners did not lose sight of him. I too was anxious to witness the effect that his silhouette produced upon him. Just as he reached the wall and stood motionless in front of his likeness, unable to believe his eyes, the little clerk, who was still among the crowd, espied him, uttered an exclamation, and, overjoyed to be able to point him out to the bystanders, called out to him:

"That's a picture of you, Monsieur Raymond; it looks just like you."

And all the young men repeated with him:

"It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's!"

My neighbor pulled his hat over his eyes, so that one could see nothing but the tip of his nose; he tried to fly from the spot, and hurled himself among the loungers, who took the keenest delight in barring his path, bombarding him with jests and hootings. Raymond was beside himself; he pushed so hard that he succeeded in breaking out a path; and as he strode away, the laughter from the milliner's shop completely broke his heart. He went like the wind; but his hat was so far over his eyes that he could not see where he was going, and he collided with a blind man led by a dog which carried a bowl in its mouth. The shock overturned the poor devil, who sat down on the sidewalk with an emphatic oath; the dog, seeing its master fall, dropped its bowl and sprang at Raymond; the blind man cried _thief_! because he heard his sous rolling on the ground; and Raymond swore because the dog was snapping at his legs. The crowd ran up to restore peace and put the beggar on his feet; but no one dared to approach him, because he was laying about him with his stick, thinking that he was belaboring the person who had thrown him down; while Raymond struggled with the dog, which had taken his leg as a subst.i.tute for the bowl and would not relax its grip.

At last, the blind man was raised to his feet, and they succeeded in replacing the bowl between the jaws of the faithful beast that had fought so valiantly for its master. As it was necessary to compensate the poor devil, who was rubbing his posteriors and demanding his money, my neighbor was compelled to put his hand in his pocket, while everybody shouted at him:

"Come, Monsieur Raymond, you must be generous; you shouldn't rush through the streets of Paris like a madman!"

To escape the crowd, which was becoming larger every moment, Raymond emptied his pockets; but the more he gave, the more the blind man complained of his bruises.

"These villains are never satisfied!" said my neighbor; "here's twelve francs for your posterior, and thirty sous for the money you lost; I think that's quite enough."

"You have hurt me," said the blind man, shouting like a deaf person; "I shan't be able to walk for a week; you must make up to me what I shall lose by that."

"Well, here's twelve francs more."

"That's not enough, bourgeois."

"What! that makes three francs a day, and still you're not satisfied!

Your trade seems to be a good one!"

"I'm a poor father of a family; I've got five children."

"Why doesn't your wife lead you, instead of trusting you to a dog?"

"My wife sings on Place Maubert, kind gentleman."

"And your children?"

"My oldest, a boy, sings on Boulevard des Italiens; the second, a girl, sings on Rue du Grand-Hurleur; the third, another girl, at Montparna.s.se; the fourth, a boy, on the Champs-elysees; and the youngest boy is just beginning to sing on Rue du Pet.i.t-Lion. We all sing, kind gentleman."

"Well! you're a good one to complain! People who sing from morning till night, and won't take three francs for a day's receipts! I should like to know if there's a family in Paris better off than that!"

The crowd laughed at my neighbor's reflections. The blind man, who was inclined to be ugly, was threatened with having to go to exhibit his bruises to the magistrate, who had a regular tariff for bruised posteriors of all grades. As he had no desire to expose his hurts to the authorities, fearing a considerable abatement of his claims, he went his way with his dog, Raymond with an insult to nurse, and I with the silhouette, which I had torn down and pocketed.

The hour for me to meet Caroline had arrived. I took a cab and was driven to a point behind the Chateau d'Eau. There I alighted, and strolled along the boulevard, awaiting my young runaway. This time she soon appeared, with several boxes in her hand. She smiled as soon as she saw me; there was less restraint in her manner, more affection in her glance, than I had seen before. Ah! I was sure now that I held sway in her heart.

I led her to the cab; we put the boxes in, then took our places side by side. I told the cabman to urge his horses, for I was impatient to arrive and enjoy her surprise. At last, after a rapid journey, during which she had allowed me to hold her in my arms and to tell her again and again that I would always love her, we reached Rue Caumartin and drew up in front of her new abode.

I opened the house door; I paid the cabman; Caroline gathered up her boxes, and I took her hand to lead her upstairs; for it was dark and we could hardly see. I was amazed that her hand did not tremble in mine. At the moment of such a tremendous change in her position she was not at all excited. She was a young woman of great strength of character--that was clear.

At last we were in her apartment; an old woman on the same landing gave us a light, and Caroline was able to examine her new quarters. She looked about with rapture; I could see her joy gleaming in her eyes.

"Oh! how pretty it is! how pretty it is!" she kept saying, again and again; and she sat down on the easy-chair, on the sofa, looked at herself in the mirror, examined her curtains, her commode, her clock, her table, her chairs. The bed was the only thing that she dared not examine. Was it from modesty?

"You are satisfied, then?" I said inquiringly, as I took her on my knees.

"Why, how could I help being? These rooms are charming; everything is so elegant, and nothing is lacking; I shall be just like any _comme il faut_ woman."

"And you think you will be happy here?"

"I feel already as if I could never go anywhere else."

"I am delighted to have succeeded so well; everything here is yours."

"Mine? really? You are too generous!"

"And if you don't love me, you are at liberty to refuse to see me; I do not intend to put any price upon what I do."

"Oh! what an idea! if I didn't love you, would I have consented to come with you? would I accept anything from you?"

I allowed her to say no more; a kiss closed her mouth. The doorbell rang violently, and Caroline started up in alarm.

"Who can that be?" she asked.

I calmed her and opened the door.

It was the man from the restaurant, with the supper I had ordered; that sight restored Caroline's gayety completely. We set the table; the basket was unloaded, the dishes placed on the table, the waiter dismissed. We were alone, on our own premises, our own masters. I was not very hungry, but I was pleased to see that my companion did honor to the repast. She partook of everything and declared that everything was good.

"At all events," I said to myself, "she hasn't begun to play the _pet.i.te-maitresse_ yet; she doesn't try to conceal her pleasure or her appet.i.te."

She admitted that she never had such a good supper at her aunt's, and that she loved good things to eat, sweetmeats, and muscat wine.

Thereupon I filled her gla.s.s with muscatel. I did not wish to make her tipsy; but a little "point," I thought, would banish the last traces of ceremony that still held her gayety in check.