sired one the longing
to be still further admired. The dressing-gown opened and slipped down
of its own accord, the living satin of her shoulders gleamed in the
mysterious light of evening. He--so prudent, so clever, so adroit,--let
her sink in his arms, ardent and half swooning before she had even
perceived she had granted anything at all. Their breath and their
murmurs intermingled. And the little flowery couch sighed in sympathy
with them.

When they recovered the power to express their feelings in words, she
whispered in his ear that his cheek was even softer than her own.

He answered, holding her embraced:

"It is charming to hold you like this. One would think you had no
bones."

She replied, closing her eyes:

"It is because I love you. Love seems to dissolve my bones; it makes me
as soft and melting as a pig's foot _a la Ste. Menebould_."

Hereupon Theophile came in, and Bouchotte called upon him to thank
Monsieur Maurice d'Esparvieu, who had been amiable enough to be the
bearer of a handsome offer from Madame la Comtesse de la Verdeliere.

The musician was happy, feeling the quiet and peace of the house after a
day of fruitless applications, of colourless lessons, of failure and
humiliation. Three new collaborators had been thrust upon him who would
add their signatures to his on his operetta, and receive their share of
the author's rights, and he had been told to introduce the tango into
the Court of Golconda. He pressed young d'Esparvieu's hand and dropped
wearily on to the little couch, which, being now at the end of its
strength, gave way at the four legs and suddenly collapsed.

And the angel, precipitated to the ground, rolled terror-struck on to
the watch, match-box and cigarette-case that had fallen from Maurice's
pocket, and on to the bombs Prince Istar had left behind him.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE VICISSITUDES THAT BEFEL THE
"LUCRETIUS" OF THE PRIOR DE VENDOME

Leger-Massieu, successor to Leger senior, the binder, whose
establishment was in the rue de l'Abbaye, opposite the old Hotel of the
Abbes of Saint Germain-des-Pres, in the hotbed of ancient schools and
learned societies, employed an excellent but by no means numerous staff
of workmen, and served with leisurely deliberation a clientele who had
learned to practise the virtue of patience. Six weeks had elapsed since
he had received the parcel of books that had been despatched by Monsieur
Sariette