fic ringing of the door-bell put an end to these visions. The
first-floor lodgers sent up a servant with a message. Would Schmucke
please stop the racket overhead. Madame, Monsieur, and Mademoiselle
Chapoulot had been wakened, and could not sleep for the noise; they
called his attention to the fact that the day was quite long enough
for rehearsals of theatrical music, and added that people ought not to
"strum" all night in a house in the Marais.--It was then three o'clock
in the morning. At half-past three, La Cibot appeared, just as Pons had
predicted. He might have actually heard the conference between Fraisier
and the portress: "Did I not guess exactly how it would be?" his eyes
seemed to say as he glanced at Schmucke, and, turning a little, he
seemed to be fast asleep.

Schmucke's guileless simplicity was an article of belief with La Cibot
(and be it noted that this faith in simplicity is the great source and
secret of the success of all infantine strategy); La Cibot, therefore,
could not suspect Schmucke of deceit when he came to say to her, with a
face half of distress, half of glad relief:

"I haf had a derrible night! a derrible dime of it! I vas opliged to
play to keep him kviet, and the virst-floor lodgers vas komm up to tell
_me_ to be kviet!... It was frightful, for der life of mein friend vas
at shtake. I am so tired mit der blaying all night, dat dis morning I am
all knocked up."

"My poor Cibot is very bad, too; one more day like yesterday, and he
will have no strength left.... One can't help it; it is God's will."

"You haf a heart so honest, a soul so peautiful, dot gif der Zipod die,
ve shall lif togedder," said the cunning Schmucke.

The craft of simple, straightforward folk is formidable indeed; they are
exactly like children, setting their unsuspected snares with the perfect
craft of the savage.

"Oh, well go and sleep, sonny!" returned La Cibot. "Your eyes look
tired, they are as big as my fist. But there! if anything could comfort
me for losing Cibot, it would be the thought of ending my days with
a good man like you. Be easy. I will give Mme. Chapoulot a dressing
down.... To think of a retired haberdasher's wife giving herself such
airs!"

Schmucke went to his room and took up his post in the closet.

La Cibot had left the door ajar on the landing; Fraisier came in and
closed it noiselessly as soon as he heard Schmucke shut his bedroom
door. He had brought with him a lighted taper and a