Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/336

would slowly return to his place by the fireside. Midnight struck, and Musette had not come.

“After all,” thought Marcel, “perhaps she was not in when my letter arrived. She will find it when she gets home to-night, and she will come to-morrow. We shall still have a fire. It is impossible for her not to come. To-morrow.”

And he fell asleep by the fire.

At the very moment that Marcel fell asleep dreaming of her Mademoiselle Musette was leaving the residence of her friend Madame Sidonie, where she had been staying up till then. Musette was not alone, a young man accompanied her. A carriage was waiting at the door; they got into it and went off at full speed.

The game at lansquenet was still going on in Madame Sidonie’s room.

“Where is Musette?” said some one all at once.

“Where is young Seraphin?” said another.

Madame Sidonie began to laugh.

“They have just gone off together,” said she. “It is a funny story. What a strange being Musette is. Just fancy . . .” and she informed the company how Musette, after almost quarrelling with Vicomte Maurice and starting off to find Marcel, had stepped in there by chance and met with young Seraphin.

“I suspected something was up,” she continued. “I had an eye on them all the evening; he is very sharp, that youngster. In short, they have gone off on the quiet, and it would take a sharp one to catch them up. All the same, it is very funny when one thinks how fond Musette is of her Marcel.”

“If she is so fond of him, what is the use of Seraphin, almost a lad, and who has never had a mistress?” said a young fellow.