el
test of her.

True, she must meet Lerouge some time. Oh! surely. She must see Mlle.
Remy, too,--she must look into his sombre eyes,--feel the gentle touch
of her hands! Often,--yes; often!

For if Jean married Mlle. Remy, perhaps she, Fouchette, might--why
not? She would become their domestic, could she not?

Only, to meet Lerouge here,--in this way!

It was a bitter struggle, but love conquered.

Nevertheless, she felt that she required all of her natural courage,
all the cleverness learned of rogues and the stoicism engrafted by
suffering, to undergo the ordeal demanded of her and to follow the
chosen path to the end.

"How charming you look, Fouchette!" he exclaimed, when she appeared in
the evening.

"Thanks, monsieur."

She gave the short bob of the professional domestic. Her face was
wreathed in smiles.

"But, I say, mon enfant, you are really pretty."

"Ah, ca!"

She was blushing,--painfully, because she knew that she was blushing.
He put his arm about her waist and attempted to kiss her.

"No, no, no!" she cried, with an air of vexation,--"go away!"

"But you are really artistic, Fouchette. I must have a sitting of you
in that costume."

He had made several sketches of her head, she serving as a model for
Mlle. Remy. Only, he filled them out to suit his ideal. Mlle.
Fouchette saw this; yet she was always pleased to pose for him.

"That is, if you are good," he added, in his condescending way.

"Have no fear,--I'll be good."

"Une bonne bonne, say."

"Bon-bon? Va!"

"And can sit still long enough."

"There! I can't sit still now, monsieur. The dinner,--it is nearly
time."

She had set out the table with the best their mutual resources
afforded. She had run up and down the street after whatever seemed
necessary earlier in the day. Now that final arrangement had come,
nothing seemed quite satisfactory. She changed this, replaced that
with something else, ran backward a moment to take in the ensemble,
then changed things back again. She had the exquisite French
perception of the incongruous in form and color. Between times she was
diving in and out of the little kitchen, where the soup was simmering
and where a chicken from the nearest rotisserie was being thoroughly
warmed up. And in her lively comings and goings she wore a bright
smile and kept up the incessant purr, purr, purr of a vivacious
tongue.

"And you must have champagne!" said she, reproachfully.

He had come in with