three plaster casts, with their noses and
chins more or less injured, were fastened to the wall, and bore witness
to the temporary curiosity which Philemon had felt with regard to
phrenological science, from the patient and serious study of which he
had drawn the following logical conclusion:--That, having to an alarming
extent the bump of getting into debt, he ought to resign himself to the
fatality of this organization, and accept the inconvenience of creditors
as a vital necessity. On the chimney-piece, stood uninjured, in all
its majesty, the magnificent rowing-club drinking-glass, a china teapot
without a spout, and an inkstand of black wood, the glass mouth of which
was covered by a coat of greenish and mossy mould. From time to time,
the silence of this retreat was interrupted by the cooing of pigeons,
which Rose-Pompon had established with cordial hospitality in the little
study. Chilly as a quail, Rose-Pompon crept close to the fire, and at
the same time seemed to enjoy the warmth of a bright ray of sunshine,
which enveloped her in its golden light. This droll little creature was
dressed in the oddest costume, which, however, displayed to advantage
the freshness of her piquant and pretty countenance, crowned with its
fine, fair hair, always neatly combed and arranged the first thing in
the morning. By way of dressing-gown, Rose-Pompon had ingeniously
drawn over her linen, the ample scarlet flannel shirt which belonged to
Philemon's official garb in the rowing-club; the collar, open and turned
down, displayed the whiteness of the young girl's under garment, as
also of her neck and shoulders, on whose firm and polished surface the
scarlet shirt seemed to cast a rosy light. The grisette's fresh and
dimpled arms half protruded from the large, turned-up sleeves; and her
charming legs were also half visible, crossed one over the other, and
clothed in neat white stockings, and boots. A black silk cravat formed
the girdle which fastened the shirt round the wasp-like waist of
Rose-Pompon, just above those hips, worthy of the enthusiasm of a modern
Phidias, and which gave to this style of dress a grace very original.

We have said, that the breakfast of Rose-Pompon was singular. You shall
judge. On a little table placed before her, was a wash-hand-basin, into
which she had recently plunged her fresh face, bathing it in pure water.
From the bottom of this basin, now transformed into a salad-bowl, Rose
Pompon took with the