assure you that I am quite cool," replied Rodolphe. "That is to say,
no. But I will announce to you that I must embrace something. You see,
Alexander, it is not good for man to live alone, in short, you must help
me to find a companion. We will stroll through the ballroom, and the
first girl I point out to you, you must go and tell her that I love
her."

"Why don't you go and tell her yourself?" replied Alexander in his
magnificent nasal bass.

"Eh? my dear fellow," said Rodolphe. "I can assure you that I have quite
forgot how one sets about saying that sort of thing. In all my love
stories it has been my friends who have written the preface, and
sometimes even the _denouement_; I never know how to begin."

"It is enough to know how to end," said Alexander, "but I understand
you. I knew a girl who loved the oboe, perhaps you would suit her."

"Ah!" said Rodolphe. "I should like her to have white gloves and blue
eyes."

"The deuce, blue eyes, I won't say no--but gloves--you know that we
can't have everything at once. However, let us go into the aristocratic
regions."

"There," said Rodolphe, as they entered the saloon favored by the
fashionables of the place, "there is one who seems nice and quiet," and
he pointed out a young girl fairly well dressed who was seated in a
corner.

"Very good," replied Alexander, "keep a little in the background, I am
going to launch the fire-ship of passion for you. When it is necessary
to put in an appearance I will call you."

For ten minutes Alexander conversed with the girl, who from time to time
broke out in a joyous burst of laughter, and ended by casting towards
Rodolphe a smiling glance which said plainly enough, "Come, your
advocate has won the cause."

"Come," said Alexander, "the victory is ours, the little one is no doubt
far from cruel, but put on an air of simplicity to begin with."

"You have no need to recommend me to do that."

"Then give me some tobacco," said Alexander, "and go and sit down beside
her."

"Good heavens," said the young girl when Rodolphe had taken his place by
her side, "how funny you friend is, his voice is like a trumpet."

"That is because he is a musician."

Two hours later Rodolphe and his companion halted in front of a house
in the Rue St. Denis.

"It is here that I live," said the girl.

"Well, my dear Louise, when and where shall I see you again?"

"At your place at eight o'clock tomorrow evening."

"For sure?"

"Here is