prize
is worth the keeping. A little telegram has already been sent, with your
excuses. The telegraph is good for that, if not for anything else: it
facilitates 'impromptus'."

"Long live impromptus," cried out Colette, "there is nothing like them
for fun!" And while Jacqueline was trying to get away, not knowing
exactly what she was saying, but frightened, pleased, and much excited,
Colette went on: "Oh! I am so glad, so glad you came to-day; now you can
see the pantomime! I dreamed, wasn't it odd, only last night, that you
were acting it with us. How can one help believing in presentiments?
Mine are always delightful--and yours?"

"The pantomime?" repeated Jacqueline in bewilderment, "but I thought
your sister told me you were all alone."

"How could we have anything like company in August?" said Madame
Strahlberg, interrupting her; "why, it would be impossible, there are
not four cats in Paris. No, no, we sha'n't have anybody. A few
friends possibly may drop in--people passing through Paris--in their
travelling-dresses. Nothing that need alarm you. The pantomime Colette
talks about is only a pretext that they may hear Monsieur Szmera."

And who was M. Szmera?

Jacqueline soon learned that he was a Hungarian, second half-cousin of
a friend of Kossuth, the most wonderful violinist of the day, who
had apparently superseded the famous Polish pianist in these ladies'
interest and esteem. As for the latter, they had almost forgotten his
name, he had behaved so badly.

"But," said Jacqueline, anxiously, "you know I am obliged to be home by
ten o'clock."

"Ah! that's like Cinderella," laughed Wanda. "Will the stroke of the
clock change all the carriages in Paris into pumpkins? One can get
'fiacres' at any hour."

"But it is a fixed rule: I must be in," repeated Jacqueline, growing
very uneasy.

"Must you really? Madame Saville says it is very easy to manage those
nuns--"

"What? Do you know Madame Saville, who was boarding at the convent last
winter?"

"Yes, indeed; she is a countrywoman of ours, a friend, the most charming
of women. You will see her here this evening. She has gained her divorce
suit--"

"You are mistaken," said Colette, "she has lost it. But that makes
no difference. She has got tired of her husband. Come, say 'Yes,'
Jacqueline--a nice, dear 'Yes'--you will stay, will you not? Oh, you
darling!"

They dined without much ceremony, on the pretext that the cook had been
turned off that morn