oked at the young girl he thought of the past and felt a sort of
compassion for her. As she was silent for a moment, the poet said to her,
"Do you know that you have become very pretty? What a charming complexion
you have! such a lovely pallor!"

The grisette, who had known what poverty was, gave a bitter little laugh:

"Oh, my pallor! that is nothing! It is not the pallor of wealth."

Then, recovering her good-humor at once, she continued:

"Tell me, Monsieur Amedee, does this big Margot, whom you began to pay
attentions to a little while ago, please you?"

Amedee quickly denied it. "That immense creature? Never! Now then,
Rosine, I came here to amuse myself a little, I will admit. That is not
forbidden at my age, is it? But this ball disgusts me. You have no
appointment here? No? Is it truly no? Very well, take my arm and let us
go. Do you live far from here?"

"In the Avenue d'Orleans, near the Montrouge church."

"Will you allow me to escort you home, then?"

She would be happy to, and they arose and left the ball. It seemed to the
young poet as if the pretty girl's arm trembled a little in his; but once
upon the boulevard, flooded by the light from the silvery moon, Rosine
slackened her steps and became pensive, and her eyes were lowered when
Amedee sought a glance from them in the obscurity. How sweet was this new
desire that troubled the young man's heart! It was mixed with a little
sentiment; his heart beat with emotion, and Rosine was not less moved.
They could both find only insignificant things to say.

"What a beautiful night!"

"Yes! It does one good to breathe the fresh air."

They continued their walk without speaking. Oh, how fresh and sweet it
was under these trees!

At last they reached the door of Rosine's dwelling. With a slow movement
she pressed her hand upon the bell-button. Then Amedee, with a great
effort, and in a confused, husky voice, asked whether he might go up with
her and see her little room.

She looked at him steadily, with a tender sadness in her eyes, and then
said to him, softly:

"No, certainly not! One must be sensible. I please you this evening, and
you know very well that I think you are charming. It is true we knew each
other when we were young, and now that we have met again, it seems as if
it would be pleasant to love each other. But, believe me, we should
commit a great folly, perhaps a wrong. It is better, I assure you, to
forget that you ever met me at Bulli