belonging to his nephew Finot, in whose office Giroudeau was cashier
and secretary. Both were dressed after the fashion of the Bonapartist
officers who now belonged to the Constitutional Opposition; they wore
ample overcoats with square collars, buttoned to the chin and coming
down to their heels, and decorated with the rosette of the Legion of
honor; and they carried malacca canes with loaded knobs, which they held
by strings of braided leather. The late troopers had just (to use one of
their own expressions) "made a bout of it," and were mutually unbosoming
their hearts as they entered the box. Through the fumes of a certain
number of bottles and various glasses of various liquors, Giroudeau
pointed out to Philippe a plump and agile little ballet-girl whom he
called Florentine, whose good graces and affection, together with the
box, belonged to him as the representative of an all-powerful journal.

"But," said Philippe, "I should like to know how far her good graces go
for such an iron-gray old trooper as you."

"Thank God," replied Giroudeau, "I've stuck to the traditions of our
glorious uniform. I have never wasted a farthing upon a woman in my
life."

"What's that?" said Philippe, putting a finger on his left eye.

"That is so," answered Giroudeau. "But, between ourselves, the newspaper
counts for a good deal. To-morrow, in a couple of lines, we shall advise
the managers to let Mademoiselle Florentine dance a particular step, and
so forth. Faith, my dear boy, I'm uncommonly lucky!"

"Well!" thought Philippe; "if this worthy Giroudeau, with a skull as
polished as my knee, forty-eight years, a big stomach, a face like a
ploughman, and a nose like a potato, can get a ballet-girl, I ought to
be the lover of the first actress in Paris. Where does one find such
luck?" he said aloud.

"I'll show you Florentine'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