rang to his feet and made a
rush to the door; but he was hemmed in immediately. In vain he stormed;
in vain he swore. We joined hands; we called for music; we danced round
him; we sang; and at last, having fairly bumped and thumped and hustled
him till we were tired, pushed him out on the landing, and left him
to his fate.

After this interlude, the mirth grew fast and furious. _Valse_ succeeded
_valse_, and galop followed galop, till the orchestra declared they
could play no longer, and the gentleman with the shovel and tongs
collapsed in a corner of the room and went to sleep with his head in the
coal-scuttle. Then the ballet-ladies were prevailed upon to favor us
with a _pas de deux_; after which Mueller sang a comic song with a
chorus, in which everybody joined; and then the orchestra was bribed
with hot brandy-and-water, and dancing commenced again. By this time the
visitors began to drop away in twos and threes, and even the fair
Josephine, to whom I had never ceased paying the most devoted attention,
declared she could not stir another step. As for Dalrymple, he had
disappeared during supper, without a word of leave-taking to any one.

Matters being at this pass, I looked at my watch, and found that it was
already half-past six o'clock; so, having bade good-night, or rather
good-morning, to Messieurs Jules, Gustave, and Adrien, and having, with
great difficulty, discovered my own coat and hat among the miscellaneous
collection in the adjoining bed-room, I prepared to escort Mademoiselle
Josephine to her home.

"Going already?" said Mueller, encountering us on the landing, with a
roll in one hand and a Bologna sausage in the other.

"Already! Why, my dear fellow, it is nearly seven o'clock!"

"_Qu'importe_? Come up to the supper-room and have some breakfast!"

"Not for the world!"

"Well, _chacun a son gout_. I am as hungry as a hunter."

"Can I not take you any part of your way?"

"No, thank you. I am a Quartier Latinist, _pur sang_, and lodge only a
street or two off. Stay, here is my address. Come and see me--you can't
think how glad I shall be!"

"Indeed, I will come---and here is my card in exchange. Good-night, Herr
Mueller."

"Good-night, Marquis of Arbuthnot. Mademoiselle Josephine, _au
plaisir_."

So we shook hands and parted, and I saw my innamorata home to her
residence at No. 70, Rue Aubry le Boucher, which opened upon the Marche
des Innocents. She fell asleep upon my shoulder in the cab