ressed the young woman's hand, kissed
Emile on the cheeks, and sat down, more at ease than if he were in his
own house, his heart swelling in the same way. Mademoiselle Donet seemed
to him a little thinner and paler. She must have grieved sorely. She
wore now an air of constraint in his presence, as if she understood what
she had not felt the week before under the first blow of her misfortune,
and she exhibited an excessive deference towards him, a mournful
humility, and made touching efforts to please him, as if to pay him back
by her attentions for the kindness he had manifested towards her. They
were a long time at lunch talking over the business, which had brought
him there. She did not want so much money. It was too much. She earned
enough to live on herself, but she only wished that Emile might find a
few sous awaiting him when he grew big. Cesar held out, however, and
even added a gift of a thousand francs for herself for the expense of
mourning.

When he had taken his coffee, she asked:

"Do you smoke?"

"Yes--I have my pipe."

He felt in his pocket. Good God! He had forgotten it! He was becoming
quite woebegone about it when she offered him a pipe of his father that
had been shut up in a cupboard. He accepted it, took it up in his hand,
recognized it, smelled it, spoke of its quality in a tone of emotion,
filled it with tobacco, and lighted it. Then, he set Emile astride on
his knee, and made him play the cavalier, while she removed the
tablecloth, and put the soiled plates at one end of the sideboard in
order to wash them as soon as he was gone.

About three o'clock, he rose up with regret, quite annoyed at the
thought of having to go.

"Well! Mademoiselle Donet," he said, "I wish you good evening, and am
delighted to have found you like this."

She remained standing before him, blushing, much affected, and gazed at
him while she thought of the other.

"Shall we not see one another again?" she said.

He replied simply:

"Why, yes, mam'zelle, if it gives you pleasure."

"Certainly, Monsieur Cesar. Will next Thursday suit you then?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle Donet."

"You will come to lunch, of course?"

"Well--if you are so kind as to invite me, I can't refuse."

"It is understood, then, Monsieur Cesar--next Thursday at twelve, the
same as to-day."

"Thursday at twelve, Mam'zelle Donet!"

* * * * *

LITTLE LOUISE ROQUE

Mederic Rompel, the postman, who wa