ty stomach, and
now even my heart was growing empty.

Presently who should emerge into the Place but the two ladies. I sat on
my bench and watched them cross. They were evidently going up the hill
to one of the hotels behind the Etablissement. In her white dress and
white tulle hat coloured by three great roses, with her beautiful hair
and sea-shell face and swaying supple figure, she looked the incarnation
of all that was worshipful in woman. I could have knelt and prayed to
her. Why was she so cruel to my master? I regarded her with mingled
reproach and adoration. But the mixed feeling gave place to one of
amazement when I saw her separate from her companion, who continued her
way up the hill, and strike straight across the Place in my direction.

_She was coming to me._

I rose, took off my ragged hat and twirled it in my fingers, which was
the way that Paragot had taught me to be polite in France.

"I want to speak to you," she said quickly. "You are the boy with the
tambourine, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

Paragot had threatened to shoot me if I called any young lady "Miss."

"What is the name of the--the gentleman who played the violin?"

"Berzelius Nibbidard Paragot."

"That is not his real name?"

"No, Mademoiselle," said I.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," said I. "This is a new name; he has only had it a week."

"How long have you known him?"

"A long, long time, Mademoiselle. He adopted me when I was quite small."

"You are not very big now," she said with a smile.

"I am nearly sixteen," said I proudly.

To herself she murmured, "I don't think I can be mistaken."

In a different tone she continued, "You spoke some nonsense about his
being your master and teaching you philosophy."

"It wasn't nonsense," I replied stoutly. "He teaches me everything. He
teaches me history and Shakespeare and Francois Villon, and painting and
Schopenhauer and the tambourine."

Her pretty lips pouted in a little gasp of astonishment as she leaned on
her long parasol and looked at me.

"You are the oddest little freak I have come across for a long time."

I smiled happily. She could have called me anything opprobrious in that
silvery voice of hers and I should have smiled. Now I come to think of
it "smile" is the wrong word. The man smiles, the boy grins. I grinned
happily.

"Has your master always played the violin in orchestras like this?"

"Oh, no, Mademoiselle," said I. "Of course not. He on