do not see the
application,

MULLER:--Vous ne le trouvez pas, Monsieur?

M. LENOIR--(_with a cold stare, and a scarcely perceptible shrug of the
shoulders_):--Non, Monsieur.

Here Mdlle. Rosalie broke in with:--"What are we to do next, M'sieur
Mueller? Are we to begin another round, or shall we start a fresh game?"

To which Mueller replied that it must be "_selon le plaisir de ces
dames_;" and put the question to the vote.

But too many plain, unvarnished truths had cropped up in the course of
the last round of my Aunt's Flower Garden; and the ladies were out of
humor. Madame de Montparnasse, frigid, Cyclopian, black as Erebus, found
that it was time to go home; and took her leave, bristling with
gentility. The tragic Honoria stalked majestically after her. Madame
Desjardins, mortally offended with M. Dorinet on the score of Rosalie's
legs, also prepared to be gone; while M. Philomene, convicted of
hair-dye and _brouille_ for ever with "the most disagreeable girl in
Paris," hastened to make his adieux as brief as possible.

"A word in your ear, mon cher Dorinet," whispered he, catching the
little dancing-master by the button-hole. "Isn't it the most unpleasant
party you were ever at in your life?"

The ex-god Scamander held up his hands and eyes.

"_Eh, mon Dieu_!" he replied. "What an evening of disasters! I have lost
my best pupil and my second-best wig!"

In the meanwhile, we went up like the others, and said good-night to our
hostess.

She, good soul! in her deafness, knew nothing about the horrors of the
evening, and was profuse of her civilities. "So amiable of these
gentlemen to honor her little soiree--so kind of M'sieur Mueller to have
exerted himself to make things go off pleasantly--so sorry we would not
stay half an hour longer," &c., &c.

To all of which Mueller (with a sly grimace expressive of contrition)
replied only by a profound salutation and a rapid retreat. Passing M.
Lenoir without so much as a glance, he paused a moment before Mdlle.
Marie who was standing near the door, and said in a tone audible only to
her and myself:--

"I congratulate you, Mademoiselle, on your admirable talent for
intrigue. I trust, when you look in the usual place and find the
promised letter, it will prove agreeable reading. J'ai l'honneur,
Mademoiselle, de vous saluer."

I saw the girl flush crimson, then turn deadly white, and draw back as
if his hand had struck her a sudden blow. The next moment we we