r, put me in a wig, in cap and bells, an you like! I will be
monsieur's clown, anything, only not this!"

"I never heard of a jeweller accompanied by his clown. Nor have I any
party-colour in my armoires. But since I have exerted myself to borrow
this toggery,--and a fine, big lass is the owner, so I think it will
fit,--you must wear it."

I was like to burst with mortification; I stood there in dumb, agonized
appeal.

"Oh, well, then you need not go at all. If you go, you go as Felicie.
But you may stay at home, if it likes you better."

That settled me. I would have gone in my grave-clothes sooner than not
go at all, and belike he knew it. I began arraying myself sullenly and
clumsily in the murrain petticoats.

There was a full kirtle of gray wool, falling to my ankles, and a white
apron. There was a white blouse with a wide, turned-back collar, and a
scarlet bodice, laced with black cords over a green tongue. I was soon
in such a desperate tangle over these divers garments, so utterly
muddled as to which to put on first, and which side forward, and which
end up, and where and how by the grace of God to fasten them, that M.
Etienne, with roars of laughter, came unsteadily to my aid. He insisted
on stuffing the whole of my jerkin under my blouse to give my figure the
proper curves, and to make me a waist he drew the lacing-cords till I
was like to suffocate. His mirth had by this time got me to laughing so
that every time he pulled me in, a fit of merriment would jerk the laces
from his fingers before he could tie them. This happened once and again,
and the more it happened the more we laughed and the less he could dress
me. I ached in every rib, and the tears were running down his cheeks,
washing little clean channels in the stain.

"Felix, this will never do," he gasped when at length he could speak.
"Never after a carouse have I been so maudlin. Compose yourself, for the
love of Heaven. Think of something serious; think of me! Think of
Peyrot, think of Mayenne, think of Lucas. Think of what will happen to
us now if Mayenne know us for ourselves."

"Enough, monsieur," I said. "I am sobered."

But even now that I held still we could not draw the last holes in the
bodice-point nearly together.

"Nay, monsieur, I can never wear it like this," I panted, when he had
tied it as tight as he could. "I shall die, or I shall burst the seams."
He had perforce to give me more room; he pulled the apron higher to
cover