little figure all the plumper,
while its black color set off the whiteness of her simple collar, and
with those magic gaiters, Ralph's gift also, he used to sit in the big
chair, peering at her, and in a quandary as to whether he had ever been
so happy before, or ever so disquieted.

"Now, my little woman," said Ralph, "I have redeemed my promises; you
have a chamber, and garments, and subsistence--more than any of your
friends--and I am with you always; few wives live so pleasantly; but
there is one thing which you must do."

Suzette, sitting upon his knee, protested that he could not command any
impossible thing which she would not undertake.

"You must work a little; we are both idle, and if we continue so, may
have _ennui_ and may quarrel. After three days I will not pay for your
breakfasts, and every day in which you do not breakfast with me, paying
for yourself, I will give you no dinner. Remember it, Suzette, for I am
in earnest."

Her color fell a little at this, for she had no love for the needle. It
was merrier in the _boutique_ to chat with customers, yet she started
fairly, and for a week earned a franc a day. The eighth day came; she
had no money. Ralph put on his hat and went down the _Rue L'Ecole de
Medecin_ without her; but his breakfast was unpalatable, indigestible.
Five o'clock came round; she was sitting at the window, perturbedly
waiting to see how he would act.

It wrung his heart to think that she was hungry, but he tried to be very
firm.

"I am going to dinner, Suzette! I keep my word, you see."

"It is well, Ralph."

That night they said little to each other. The dovecote was quite cold,
for the autumn days were running out, and they lighted a hearth fire.
Suzette made pretence of reading. She had an impenitent look; for she
conceived that she had been cruelly treated, and would not be soothed
nor kissed. Ralph smoked, and said over some old rhymes, and, finally
rising, put on his cloak.

"I am going out, Suzette; you don't make my room cheerful."

"_Bien!_"

He walked very slowly and heavily down the stairs, to convince her that
he was really going or hoping to be recalled, but she did not speak. He
saw the light burning from his windows as he looked up from below. He
was regretful and angry. At Terrapin's room he drank much raw brandy and
sang a song. He even called the astute Terrapin a humbug, and toward
midnight grew quarrelsome. They escorted him to his hotel door; the
ligh