, but with Christians! It seems to me that black
hair--"

"When it is long and glossy like yours, it is wonderful," said the young
man, darting another killing glance. "Madame Gobillot, would you mind
closing that door? One can not hear one's self think here. I am a
little critical, so far as music is concerned, and you have two sopranos
outside who deafen me with their shrieks."

"It is Marguerite Mottet and her sister. Since our cure has taken to
teaching them, they bore us to death, coming here and singing their fine
songs. One of these days I shall notify them to leave."

As she said these words, Madame Gobillot went to close the door in order
to please her guest; as soon as her back was turned, the latter leaned
forward with the boldness of a Lovelace and imprinted a very loving kiss
upon the rosy cheek of Mademoiselle Reine, who never thought of drawing
back until the offence was committed.

The sole witness to this incident was the little kitchen drudge, whose
blue eyes had been fastened upon the artist's moustache and beard for
some time. They seemed to plunge him into a deep admiration. But at this
unexpected event his amazement was so complete that he dropped his spoon
into the ashes.

"Eh! mein herr, do you wish to go to bed without your supper, as has
been promised you?" said the young man, while the beautiful Reine was
trying to recover her countenance. "Now, then, sing us a little song
instead of staring at me as if I were a giraffe. Your little cook has
a nice voice, Madame Gobillot. Now, then, mein herr, give us a little
German lied. I will give you six kreutzers if you sing in tune, and a
flogging if you grate upon my ears."

He arose and put his album under his arm.

"And my portrait?" exclaimed the young girl, whose cheek was still
burning from the kiss she had just received.

The painter drew near her, smiling, and said in a mysterious tone:

"When I make a portrait of a pretty person like you, I never finish it
the first day. If you will give me another sitting in the morning before
your mother arises I promise to finish this sketch in a way that will
not be displeasing to you."

Mademoiselle Reine saw that her mother was watching her, and walked away
with no reply save a glance which was not discouraging.

"Now, then! You droll little fellow!" exclaimed the artist, as he
whirled on one foot; "triple time; one, two, begin."

The child burst into an Alsatian song in a high, ringing voic