remained there as if seeking an idea, a purpose.

"Where shall we go?" repeated the driver.

Suddenly Marianne's face trembled with a joyous expression and she
abruptly said:

"To the Prefecture of Police!"

* * * * *

_The general rose, grasping his glass as if he would shiver it,
and while the _parfait_ overflowed on to the plates, he cried
in a hoarse voice, as if he were at the head of his division:_

_"I love bronze--I love bronze--...."_

[Illustration: THE BANQUET]

VI

There was a crowd at the _Mirlitons_ Exposition.

A file of waiting carriages lined the kerbstone the whole length of
Place Vendome. Beneath the arch and within the portal, groups of
fashionable persons elbowed each other on entering or leaving, and
exchanged friendly polite greetings; the women quizzing the new hats,
little hoods of plush or large _Rembranesque_ hats in which the
delicate Parisian faces were lost as under the roof of a cabriolet. The
liveried lackeys perfunctorily glanced at the cards of admission that
the holders hardly took the trouble to present. One was seated at a
table mechanically handing out catalogues. Through the open door of the
Club's Theatre could be seen gold frames suspended from the walls, terra
cottas and marbles on their pedestals, and around the pictures and
sculptures a dense crowd, masses of black hats inclined toward the
paintings, side by side with pretty feminine heads crowned with
Gainsborough hats adorned with plumes. It was impossible to see at close
quarters the pieces offered for the sale that was for that day the
engrossing topic of conversation of _All Paris_.

"A veritable salon in miniature!" said Guy aloud to an art critic who
was taking notes. "But to examine it comfortably one should be quite
alone. For an hour past I have been trying to get a look at the
Meissonier, but have not been able to do so. It is stifling here. I will
return another time."

He quickly grasped the hand that held the pencil, and which was extended
to him, and tried to make a passage through the crowd to the exit.
Pushed and pushing, he smiled and apologized for his inability to
disengage his arms that were held by the crowd as if in a vise, in order
to salute the friends he recognized. At length he reached, giving vent
to a grunt of satisfaction, the hall where visitors were sitting on
divans, chatting, either less eager to view the pictures or satisfied
in their