e's place to-night. My Dulcinea only earns
fifty francs a month at the theatre," added Giroudeau, "but she is
very prettily set up, thanks to an old silk dealer named Cardot, who
gives her five hundred francs a month."

"Well, but--?" exclaimed the jealous Philippe.

"Bah!" said Giroudeau; "true love is blind."

When the play was over Giroudeau took Philippe to Mademoiselle
Florentine's _appartement_, which was close to the theatre, in the rue
de Crussol.

"We must behave ourselves," said Giroudeau. "Florentine's mother is
here. You see, I haven't the means to pay for one, so the worthy woman
is really her own mother. She used to be a concierge, but she's not
without intelligence. Call her Madame; she makes a point of it."

Florentine happened that night to have a friend with her,--a certain
Marie Godeschal, beautiful as an angel, cold as a danseuse, and a
pupil of Vestris, who foretold for her a great choregraphic destiny.
Mademoiselle Godeschal, anxious to make her first appearance at the
Panorama-Dramatique under the name of Mariette, based her hopes on the
protection and influence of a first gentleman of the bedchamber, to
whom Vestris had promised to introduce her. Vestris, still green
himself at this period, did not think his pupil sufficiently trained
to risk the introduction. The ambitious girl did, in the end, make her
pseudonym of Mariette famous; and the motive of her ambition, it must
be said, was praiseworthy. She had a brother, a clerk in Derville's
law office. Left orphans and very poor, and devoted to each other, the
brother and sister had seen life such as it is in Paris. The one
wished to be a lawyer that he might support his sister, and he lived
on ten sous a day; the other had coldly resolved to be a dancer, and
to profit by her beauty as much as by her legs that she might buy a
practice for her brother. Outside of their feeling for each other, and
of their mutual life and interests, everything was to them, as it once
was to the Romans and the Hebrews, barbaric, outlandish, and hostile.
This generous affection, which nothing ever lessened, explained
Mariette to those who knew her intimately.

The brother and sister were living at this time on the eighth floor of
a house in the Vieille rue du Temple. Mariette had begun her studies
when she was ten years old; she was now just sixteen. Alas! for want
of becoming clothes, her beauty, hidden under a coarse shawl, dressed
in calico, and ill-kept, co