ion amusing, and
agreed to share in the jest.

It was the very evening that the rendezvous was appointed for that
Rodolphe met the philosopher Colline, just as he had bought the rope
ladder that was to aid him to scale Juliet's balcony. The birdseller to
whom he had applied not having a nightingale, Rodolphe replaced it by a
pigeon, which he was assured sang every morning at daybreak.

Returned home, the poet reflected that to ascend a rope ladder was not
an easy matter, and that it would be a good thing to rehearse the
balcony scene, if he would not in addition to the chances of a fall, run
the risk of appearing awkward and ridiculous in the eyes of her who was
awaiting him. Having fastened his ladder to two nails firmly driven into
the ceiling, Rodolphe employed the two hours remaining to him in
practicing gymnastics, and after an infinite number of attempts,
succeeded in managing after a fashion to get up half a score of rungs.

"Come, that is all right," he said to himself, "I am now sure of my
affair and besides, if I stuck half way, 'love would lend me his
wings.'"

And laden with his ladder and his pigeon cage, he set out for the abode
of Juliet, who lived near. Her room looked into a little garden, and had
indeed a balcony. But the room was on the ground floor, and the balcony
could be stepped over as easily as possible.

Hence Rodolphe was completely crushed when he perceived this local
arrangement, which put to naught his poetical project of an escalade.

"All the same," said he to Juliet, "we can go through the episode of the
balcony. Here is a bird that will arouse us tomorrow with his melodious
notes, and warn us of the exact moment when we are to part from one
another in despair."

And Rodolphe hung up the cage beside the fireplace.

The next day at five in the morning the pigeon was exact to time, and
filled the room with a prolonged cooing that would have awakened the two
lovers--if they had gone to sleep.

"Well," said Juliet, "this is the moment to go into the balcony and bid
one another despairing farewells--what do you think of it?"

"The pigeon is too fast," said Rodolphe. "It is November, and the sun
does not rise till noon."

"All the same," said Juliet, "I am going to get up."

"Why?"

"I feel quite empty, and I will not hide from you the fact that I could
very well eat a mouthfull."

"The agreement that prevails in our sympathies is astonishing. I am
awfully hungry too," said R