ng around
in the hope of finding pen and ink. Helene quickly tried to appease
him, but he still went on:

"I would rather sign a paper for you. What harm would it do you? Your
mind would be all the easier with it."

However, just at that moment Jeanne, who had again run away, returned,
jumping and clapping her hands.

"Rosalie! Rosalie! Rosalie!" she chanted in a dancing tune of her own
composition.

Through the open doorway one could hear the panting of the maid as she
climbed up the stairs laden with her basket. Zephyrin started back
into a corner of the room, his mouth wide agape from ear to ear in
silent laughter, and the gimlet holes of his eyes gleaming with rustic
roguery. Rosalie came straight into the room, as was her usual
practice, to show her mistress her morning's purchase of provisions.

"Madame," said she, "I've brought some cauliflowers. Look at them!
Only eighteen sous for two; it isn't dear, is it?"

She held out the basket half open, but on lifting her head noticed
Zephyrin's grinning face. Surprise nailed her to the carpet. Two or
three seconds slipped away; she had doubtless at first failed to
recognize him in his uniform. But then her round eyes dilated, her fat
little face blanched, and her coarse black hair waved in agitation.

"Oh!" she simply said.

But her astonishment was such that she dropped her basket. The
provisions, cauliflowers, onions, apples, rolled on to the carpet.
Jeanne gave a cry of delight, and falling on her knees, began hunting
for the apples, even under the chairs and the wardrobe. Meanwhile
Rosalie, as though paralyzed, never moved, though she repeated:

"What! it's you! What are you doing here? what are you doing here?
Say!"

Then she turned to Helene with the question: "Was it you who let him
come in?"

Zephyrin never uttered a word, but contented himself with winking
slily. Then Rosalie gave vent to her emotion in tears; and, to show
her delight at seeing him again, could hit on nothing better than to
quiz him.

"Oh! go away!" she began, marching up to him. "You look neat and
pretty I must say in that guise of yours! I might have passed you in
the street, and not even have said: 'God bless you.' Oh! you've got a
nice rig-out. You just look as if you had your sentry-box on your
back; and they've cut your hair so short that folks might take you for
the sexton's poodle. Good heavens! what a fright you are; what a
fright!"

Zephyrin, very indignant, now mad