Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/328

began to think of Marcel to whom she was going, and whilst running over the recollections re-awakened by the name of her erst adorer, asked herself by what miracle the table had been spread at his dwelling. She re-read, as she went along, the letter that the artist had written to her, and could not help feeling somewhat saddened by it. But this only lasted a moment. Musette thought aright, that it was less than ever an occasion for grieving, and as at that moment a strong wind sprung up she exclaimed:

“It is funny, even if I did not want to go to Marcel’s, the wind would blow me there.”

And she went on hurriedly, happy as a bird returning to its first nest.

All at once snow began to fall heavily. Musette looked for a cab. She could not see one. As she happened to be in the very street in which dwelt her friend Madame Sidonie, the same who had sent on Marcel’s letter to her, Musette decided to run in for a few minutes till the weather cleared up sufficiently to enable her to continue her journey.

When Musette entered Madame Sidonie’s rooms she found a gathering there. They were going on with a game of lansquenet that had lasted three days.

“Do not disturb yourselves,” said Musette; “I have only just popped in for a moment.”

“You got Marcel’s letter all right?” whispered Madame Sidonie to her.

“Yes, thanks,” replied Musette; “I am going to his place, he has asked me to dinner. Will you come with me? You would enjoy yourself.”

“No, I can’t,” said Sidonie, pointing to the card-table; “think of my rent.”

“There are six louis,” said the banker.

“I’ll go two of them,” exclaimed Madame Sidonie.

“I am not proud, I’ll start at two,” replied the banker,