at that hour?" Annette inquired.

"Very often; there is no more charming place in Paris."

"Do you come on horseback in the mornings?"

"Yes."

"And in the afternoon you pay visits?"

"Yes."

"Then, when do you work?"

"Oh, I work--sometimes; and besides, you see, I have chosen a special
entertainment suited to my tastes. As I paint the portraits of
beautiful women, it is necessary that I should see them and follow them
everywhere."

"On foot and on horseback!" murmured Annette, with a perfectly serious
face.

He threw her a sidelong glance of appreciation, which seemed to say:
"Ah! you are witty, even now! You will do very well."

A breath of cold air from far away, from the country that was hardly
awake as yet, swept over the park, and the whole Bois, coquettish,
frivolous, and fashionable, shivered under its chill. For some seconds
it caused the tender leaves to tremble on the trees, and garments on
shoulders. All the women, with a movement almost simultaneous, drew up
over their arms and chests their wraps lying behind them; and the horses
began to trot, from one end of the avenue to the other, as if the keen
wind had flicked them like a whip.

The Countess's party returned quickly, to the silvery jingle of the
harness, under the slanting red rays of the setting sun.

"Shall you go home?" inquired the Countess of Bertin, with whose habits
she was familiar.

"No, I am going to the club."

"Then, shall we set you down there in passing?"

"Thank you, that will be very convenient."

"And when shall you invite us to breakfast with the Duchess?"

"Name your day."

This painter in ordinary to the fair Parisians, whom his admirers
christened "a Watteau realist" and his detractors a "photographer
of gowns and mantles," often received at breakfast or at dinner the
beautiful persons whose feature he had reproduced, as well as the
celebrated and the well known, who found very amusing these little
entertainments in a bachelor's establishment.

"The day after to-morrow, then. Will the day after to-morrow suit you,
my dear Duchess?" asked Madame de Guilleroy.

"Yes, indeed; you are charming! Monsieur Bertin never thinks of me
when he has his little parties. It is quite evident that I am no longer
young."

The Countess, accustomed to consider the artist's home almost the same
as her own, replied:

"Only we four, the four of the landau--the Duchess, Annette, you and I,
eh, great artist?"

"Only ourse