dence, but I can't help giving you a
warning. After all, you are a man, you are young and at liberty. Let me
beseech you, then, to respect the innocence of Mademoiselle Nioche!"

Newman had wondered what was coming, and at this he broke into a laugh.
He was on the point of declaring that his own innocence struck him as
the more exposed, but he contented himself with promising to treat the
young girl with nothing less than veneration. He found her waiting for
him, seated upon the great divan in the Salon Carre. She was not in
her working-day costume, but wore her bonnet and gloves and carried her
parasol, in honor of the occasion. These articles had been selected with
unerring taste, and a fresher, prettier image of youthful alertness
and blooming discretion was not to be conceived. She made Newman a most
respectful curtsey and expressed her gratitude for his liberality in a
wonderfully graceful little speech. It annoyed him to have a charming
young girl stand there thanking him, and it made him feel uncomfortable
to think that this perfect young lady, with her excellent manners and
her finished intonation, was literally in his pay. He assured her, in
such French as he could muster, that the thing was not worth mentioning,
and that he considered her services a great favor.

"Whenever you please, then," said Mademoiselle Noemie, "we will pass the
review."

They walked slowly round the room, then passed into the others and
strolled about for half an hour. Mademoiselle Noemie evidently relished
her situation, and had no desire to bring her public interview with her
striking-looking patron to a close. Newman perceived that prosperity
agreed with her. The little thin-lipped, peremptory air with which she
had addressed her father on the occasion of their former meeting had
given place to the most lingering and caressing tones.

"What sort of pictures do you desire?" she asked. "Sacred, or profane?"

"Oh, a few of each," said Newman. "But I want something bright and gay."

"Something gay? There is nothing very gay in this solemn old Louvre. But
we will see what we can find. You speak French to-day like a charm. My
father has done wonders."

"Oh, I am a bad subject," said Newman. "I am too old to learn a
language."

"Too old? Quelle folie!" cried Mademoiselle Noemie, with a clear, shrill
laugh. "You are a very young man. And how do you like my father?"

"He is a very nice old gentleman. He never laughs at my blunders."