Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/257

voured with his eyes this charming gratification in excess of his fare.

“By Jove,” said Marcel, “that is a neat leg, I should like to offer it my arm. Come, now, how shall I manage to accost it? Ha! I have it—it is a fairly novel plan. Excuse me, madame,” continued he, approaching the fair unknown, whose face at the outset he could not at first get a full view of, “but you have not by chance found my handkerchief?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the young lady, “here it is.” And she placed in Marcel’s hand a handkerchief she had been holding in her own.

The artist rolled into an abyss of astonishment.

But all at once a burst of laughter full in his face recalled him to himself. By this joyous outbreak he recognized his old love.

It was Mademoiselle Musette.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, “Monsieur Marcel in quest of gallant adventures. What do you think of this one, eh? It does not lack fun.”

“I think it endurable,” replied Marcel.

“Where are you going so late in this region?” asked Musette.

“I am going into that edifice,” said the artist, pointing to a little theatre where he was on the free list.

“For the sake of art?”

“No, for the sake of Laura.”

“Who is Laura?” continued Musette, whose eyes shot forth notes of interrogation.

Marecel kept up the joke.

“She is a chimera whom I am pursuing, and who plays here.”

And he pretended to pull out an imaginary shirt frill.

“You are very witty this evening,” said Musette.