glish purchaser, and persuaded Lucien to go to bed to take a
preliminary nap; and Lucien, in truth, was quite willing to sleep on the
couch that he had been admiring. Berenice had read his wish, and felt
glad for her mistress.

At half-past ten that night Lucien awoke to look into eyes brimming over
with love. There stood Coralie in most luxurious night attire. Lucien
had been sleeping; Lucien was intoxicated with love, and not with wine.
Berenice left the room with the inquiry, "What time to-morrow morning?"

"At eleven o'clock. We will have breakfast in bed. I am not at home to
anybody before two o'clock."

At two o'clock in the afternoon Coralie and her lover were sitting
together. The poet to all appearance had come to pay a call. Lucien had
been bathed and combed and dressed. Coralie had sent to Colliau's for a
dozen fine shirts, a dozen cravats and a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs
for him, as well as twelve pairs of gloves in a cedar-wood box. When
a carriage stopped at the door, they both rushed to the window, and
watched Camusot alight from a handsome coupe.

"I would not have believed that one could so hate a man and luxury----"

"I am too poor to allow you to ruin yourself for me," he replied. And
thus Lucien passed under the Caudine Forks.

"Poor pet," said Coralie, holding him tightly to her, "do you love me
so much?--I persuaded this gentleman to call on me this morning,"
she continued, indicating Lucien to Camusot, who entered the room. "I
thought that we might take a drive in the Champs Elysees to try the
carriage."

"Go without me," said Camusot in a melancholy voice; "I shall not dine
with you. It is my wife's birthday, I had forgotten that."

"Poor Musot, how badly bored you will be!" she said, putting her arms
about his neck.

She was wild with joy at the thought that she and Lucien would handsel
this gift together; she would drive with him in the new carriage; and
in her happiness, she seemed to love Camusot, she lavished caresses upon
him.

"If only I could give you a carriage every day!" said the poor fellow.

"Now, sir, it is two o'clock," she said, turning to Lucien, who stood in
distress and confusion, but she comforted him with an adorable gesture.

Down the stairs she went, several steps at a time, drawing Lucien after
her; the elderly merchant following in their wake like a seal on land,
and quite unable to catch them up.

Lucien enjoyed the most intoxicating of pleasures; happines