r sound asleep.

CHAPTER X. ANOTHER CATASTROPHE

About eleven the next morning, a terrible sound awoke the unfortunate
clerk. Recognizing the voice of his uncle Cardot, he thought it wise to
feign sleep, and so turned his face into the yellow velvet cushions on
which he had passed the night.

"Really, my little Florentine," said the old gentleman, "this is neither
right nor sensible; you danced last evening in 'Les Ruines,' and you
have spent the night in an orgy. That's deliberately going to work to
lose your freshness. Besides which, it was ungrateful to inaugurate this
beautiful apartment without even letting me know. Who knows what has
been going on here?"

"Old monster!" cried Florentine, "haven't you a key that lets you in
at all hours? My ball lasted till five in the morning, and you have the
cruelty to come and wake me up at eleven!"

"Half-past eleven, Titine," observed Cardot, humbly. "I came out early
to order a dinner fit for an archbishop at Chevet's. Just see how the
carpets are stained! What sort of people did you have here?"

"You needn't complain, for Fanny Beaupre told me you were coming to
dinner with Camusot, and to please you I've invited Tullia, du Bruel,
Mariette, the Duc de Maufrigneuse, Florine, and Nathan. So you'll have
the four loveliest creatures ever seen behind the foot-lights; we'll
dance you a 'pas de Zephire.'"

"It is enough to kill you to lead such a life!" cried old Cardot; "and
look at the broken glasses! What pillage! The antechamber actually makes
me shudder--"

At this instant the wrathful old gentleman stopped short as if
magnetized, like a bird which a snake is charming. He saw the outline of
a form in a black coat through the door of the boudoir.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Cabirolle!" he said at last.

"Well, what?" she asked.

The eyes of the danseuse followed those of the little old man; and when
she recognized the presence of the clerk she went off into such fits of
laughter that not only was the old gentleman nonplussed, but Oscar was
compelled to appear; for Florentine took him by the arm, still pealing
with laughter at the conscience-stricken faces of the uncle and nephew.

"You here, nephew?"

"Nephew! so he's your nephew?" cried Florentine, with another burst of
laughter. "You never told me about him. Why didn't Mariette carry you
off?" she said to Oscar, who stood there petrified. "What can he do now,
poor boy?"

"Whatever he pleases!" said Cardot, s