tore at the cheeks and
eyelids of the Kerub, and, though he held her as in a vice, she arched
herself so stiffly and made such excellent play with knee and elbow,
that the human-headed bull, blinded with blood and rage, was sent
crashing into the piano which gave forth a prolonged groan, while the
bombs, tumbling out of his pockets, fell on the floor with a noise like
thunder. And Bouchotte, with dishevelled locks, and one breast bare,
beautiful and terrible, stood brandishing the poker over the prostrate
giant, crying:

"Be off with you, or I'll put your eyes out!"

Prince Istar went to wash himself in the kitchen, and plunged his gory
visage into a basin where some haricot beans lay soaking; then he
withdrew without anger or resentment, for he had a noble soul.

Scarcely had he gone when the door-bell rang. Bouchotte, calling upon
the absent maid in vain, slipped on a dressing-gown and opened the door
herself. A young man, very correct in appearance and rather
good-looking, bowed politely, and apologising for having to introduce
himself, gave his name. It was Maurice d'Esparvieu.

Maurice was still seeking his guardian angel. Upheld by a desperate
hope, he sought him in the queerest places. He enquired for him at the
houses of sorcerers, magicians, and thaumaturgists, who in filthy hovels
lay bare the ineffable secrets of the future, and who, though masters
of all the treasures of the earth, wear trousers without any seats to
them, and eat pigs' brains. That very day, having been to a back street
in Montmartre to consult a priest of Satan, who practised black magic by
piercing waxen images, Maurice had gone on to Bouchotte's, having been
sent by Madame de la Verdeliere, who, being about to give a fete in aid
of the fund for the Preservation of Country Churches, was anxious to
secure Bouchotte's services, since she had suddenly become--no one knew
why--a fashionable artiste.

Bouchotte invited the visitor to sit down on the little flowered couch;
at his request she seated herself beside him, and our young man of
fashion explained to the singer what Madame de la Verdeliere desired of
her. The lady wished Bouchotte to sing one of those _apache_ songs which
were giving such delight in the fashionable world. Unfortunately Madame
de la Verdeliere could only offer a very modest fee, one out of all
proportion to the merits of the artiste, but then it was for a good
cause.

Bouchotte agreed to take part, and accepted th