"That is a handsome boy," said Camusot.

"Do you think so? I don't admire men of that sort; they are too much
like women; and they do not understand how to love like you stupid old
business men. You are so bored with your own society."

"Is monsieur dining with madame?" inquired Berenice.

"No, my mouth is clammy."

"You were nicely screwed yesterday. Ah! Papa Camusot, I don't like men
who drink, I tell you at once----"

"You will give that young man a present, I suppose?" interrupted
Camusot.

"Oh! yes. I would rather do that than pay as Florine does. There, go
away with you, good-for-nothing that one loves; or give me a carriage to
save time in future."

"You shall go in your own carriage to-morrow to your manager's dinner at
the _Rocher de Cancale_. The new piece will not be given next Sunday."

"Come, I am just going to dine," said Coralie, hurrying Camusot out of
the room.

An hour later Berenice came to release Lucien. Berenice, Coralie's
companion since her childhood, had a keen and subtle brain in her
unwieldy frame.

"Stay here," she said. "Coralie is coming back alone; she even talked of
getting rid of Camusot if he is in your way; but you are too much of an
angel to ruin her, her heart's darling as you are. She wants to clear
out of this, she says; to leave this paradise and go and live in your
garret. Oh! there are those that are jealous and envious of you, and
they have told her that you haven't a brass farthing, and live in the
Latin Quarter; and I should go, too, you see, to do the house-work.--But
I have just been comforting her, poor child! I have been telling her
that you were too clever to do anything so silly. I was right, wasn't
I, sir? Oh! you will see that you are her darling, her love, the god to
whom she gives her soul; yonder old fool has nothing but the body.--If
you only knew how nice she is when I hear her say her part over! My
Coralie, my little pet, she is! She deserved that God in heaven should
send her one of His angels. She was sick of the life.--She was so
unhappy with her mother that used to beat her, and sold her. Yes, sir,
sold her own child! If I had a daughter, I would wait on her hand and
foot as I wait on Coralie; she is like my own child to me.--These are
the first good times she has seen since I have been with her; the first
time that she has been really applauded. You have written something,
it seems, and they have got up a famous _claque_ for the second
perform