to give a grand dinner party that
evening.

"Here is a miracle," she exclaimed, laughing like a mad thing.

"What is it?" asked a handsome young fellow, as stiff as a statuette.

"It is an invitation to dinner," replied the girl. "How well it falls
out."

"How badly," said the young man.

"Why so?" asked Musette.

"What, do you think of going?"

"I should think so. Arrange things as you please."

"But, my dear, it is not becoming. You can go another time."

"Ah, that is very good, another time. It is an old acquaintance, Marcel,
who invites me to dinner, and that is sufficiently extraordinary for me
to go and have a look at it. Another time! But real dinners in that
house are as rare as eclipses."

"What, you would break your pledge to us to go and see this
individual," said the young man, "and you tell me so--"

"Whom do you want me to tell it to, then? To the Grand Turk? It does not
concern him."

"This is strange frankness."

"You know very well that I do nothing like other people."

"But what would you think of me if I let you go, knowing where you are
going to? Think a bit, Musette, it is very unbecoming both to you and
myself; you must ask this young fellow to excuse you--"

"My dear Monsieur Maurice," said Mademoiselle Musette, in very firm
tones, "you knew me before you took up with me, you knew that I was full
of whims and fancies, and that no living soul can boast of ever having
made me give one up."

"Ask of me whatever you like," said Maurice, "but this! There are
fancies and fancies."

"Maurice, I shall go and see Marcel. I am going," she added, putting on
her bonnet. "You may leave me if you like, but it is stronger than I
am; he is the best fellow in the world, and the only one I have ever
loved. If his head had been gold he would have melted it down to give me
rings. Poor fellow," said she, showing the letter, "see, as soon as he
has a little fire, he invites me to come and warm myself. Ah, if he had
not been so idle, and if there had not been so much velvet and silk in
the shops! I was very happy with him, he had the gift of making me feel;
and it is he who gave me the name of Musette on account of my songs. At
any rate, going to see him you may be sure that I shall return to you...
unless you shut your door in my face."

"You could not more frankly acknowledge that you do not love me," said
the young man.

"Come, my dear Maurice, you are too sensible a man for us to begin a
s