uld only be guessed by those Parisians who
devote themselves to hunting grisettes and the quest of beauty in
misfortune, as she trotted past them with mincing step, mounted on
iron pattens. Philippe fell in love with Mariette. To Mariette,
Philippe was commander of the dragoons of the Guard, a staff-officer
of the Emperor, a young man of twenty-seven, and above all, the means
of proving herself superior to Florentine by the evident superiority
of Philippe over Giroudeau. Florentine and Giroudeau, the one to
promote his comrade's happiness, the other to get a protector for her
friend, pushed Philippe and Mariette into a "mariage en detrempe,"--a
Parisian term which is equivalent to "morganatic marriage," as applied
to royal personages. Philippe when they left the house revealed his
poverty to Giroudeau, but the old roue reassured him.

"I'll speak to my nephew Finot," he said. "You see, Philippe, the
reign of phrases and quill-drivers is upon us; we may as well submit.
To-day, scribblers are paramount. Ink has ousted gunpowder, and talk
takes the place of shot. After all, these little toads of editors are
pretty good fellows, and very clever. Come and see me to-morrow at the
newspaper office; by that time I shall have said a word for you to my
nephew. Before long you'll have a place on some journal or other.
Mariette, who is taking you at this moment (don't deceive yourself)
because she literally has nothing, no engagement, no chance of
appearing on the stage, and I have told her that you are going on a
newspaper like myself,--Mariette will try to make you believe she is
loving you for yourself; and you will believe her! Do as I do,--keep
her as long as you can. I was so much in love with Florentine that I
begged Finot to write her up and help her to a debut; but my nephew
replied, 'You say she has talent; well, the day after her first
appearance she will turn her back on you.' Oh, that's Finot all over!
You'll find him a knowing one."

The next day, about four o'clock, Philippe went to the rue de Sentier,
where he found Giroudeau in the entresol,--caged like a wild beast in
a sort of hen-coop with a sliding panel; in which was a little stove,
a little table, two little chairs, and some little logs of wood. This
establishment bore the magic words, SUBSCRIPTION OFFICE, painted on
the door in black letters, and the word "Cashier," written by hand and
fastened to the grating of the cage. Along the wall that lay opposite
t