ow, if I give a supper-party to my friends, it is to thank these
gentlemen for the medal I got at the Salon. I cannot receive women.
You ought to understand that. It is not the same with artists as with
other people."

She stammered in the midst of her tears:

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

He replied:

"It was in order not to annoy you, not to give you pain. Listen, I'm
going to see you home. You will be very sensible, very nice; you will
remain quietly waiting for me in bed, and I'll come back as soon as
it's over."

She murmured:

"Yes, but you will not begin over again?"

"No, I swear to you!"

He turned towards M. Saval, who had at last hooked on the chandelier:

"My dear friend, I am coming back in five minutes. If any one arrives
in my absence, do the honors for me, will you not?"

And he carried off Mathilde, who kept drying her eyes with her
handkerchief as she went along.

Left to himself, M. Saval succeeded in putting everything around him
in order. Then he lighted the wax candles, and waited.

He waited for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour. Romantin
did not return. Then, suddenly, there was a dreadful noise on the
stairs, a song shouted out in chorus by twenty mouths and a regular
march like that of a Prussian regiment. The whole house was shaken by
the steady tramp of feet. The door flew open, and a motley throng
appeared--men and women in a row, holding one another arm in arm, in
pairs, and kicking their heels on the ground, in proper time, advanced
into the studio like a snake uncoiling itself. They howled:

"Come, and let us all be merry,
Pretty maids and soldiers gay!"

M. Saval, thunderstruck, remained standing in evening dress under the
chandelier. The procession of revelers caught sight of him, and
uttered a shout:

"A Jeames! A Jeames!"

And they began whirling round him, surrounding him with a circle of
vociferations. Then they took each other by the hand and went dancing
about madly.

He attempted to explain:

"Messieurs--messieurs--mesdames--"

But they did not listen to him. They whirled about, they jumped, they
brawled.

At last, the dancing ceased. M. Saval uttered the word:

"Messieurs--"

A tall young fellow, fair-haired and bearded to the nose, interrupted
him:

"What's your name, my friend?"

The notary, quite scared, said:

"I am M. Saval."

A voice exclaimed:

"You mean Baptiste."

A woman said:

"Let the poor waiter alone!