modesty, do not think of it. I am not over nice.
I should like you very well as you are!"

"Only to think that such a monster is the favorite of all the
churchgoers!" said Rose-Pompon, opening the door as she finished
fastening her dress.

"So! you have at last returned to the dovecot, you stray girl!" said
Ninny Moulin, folding his arms, and looking at Rose-Pompon with comic
seriousness. "And where may you have been, I pray? For three days the
naughty little bird has left its nest."

"True; I only returned home last night. You must have called during my
absence?"

"I came, every day, and even twice a day, young lady, for I have very
serious matters to communicate."

"Very serious matters? Then we shall have a good laugh at them."

"Not at all--they are really serious," said Ninny Moulin, seating
himself. "But, first of all, what did you do during the three days that
you left your conjugal and Philemonic home? I must know all about it,
before I tell you more."

"Will you have some olives?" said Rose-Pompon, as she nibbled one of them
herself.

"Is that your answer?--I understand!--Unfortunate Philemon!"

"There is no unfortunate Philemon in the case, slanderer. Clara had a
death in her house, and, for the first few days after the funeral she was
afraid to sleep alone."

"I thought Clara sufficiently provided against such fears."

"There you are deceived, you great viper! I was obliged to go and keep
the poor girl company."

At this assertion, the religious pamphleteer hummed a tune, with an
incredulous and mocking air.

"You think I have played Philemon tricks?" cried Rose-Pompon, cracking a
nut with the indignation of injured innocence.

"I do not say tricks; but one little rose-colored trick."

"I tell you, that it was not for my pleasure I went out. On the
contrary--for, during my absence, poor Cephyse disappeared."

"Yes, Mother Arsene told me that the Bacchanal-Queen was gone on a
journey. But when I talk of Philemon, you talk of Cephyse; we don't
progress."

"May I be eaten by the black panther that they are showing at the Porte
Saint-Martin if I do not tell you the truth. And, talking of that, you
must get tickets to take me to see those animals, my little Ninny Moulin!
They tell me there never were such darling wild beasts."

"Now really, are you mad?"

"Why so?"

"That I should guide your youth, like a venerable patriarch, through the
dangers of the Storm-blown Tulip, all well and go