ntemplation.

"Who is this Ali Baba?" thought Mademoiselle Sidonia on her part. And
she meditated on a pretext for engaging in conversation with Rodolphe,
who was himself trying to do the very same.

"Bless me!" cried the lady, as if talking to herself, "what a bore! I've
no matches!"

"Allow me to offer you some, mademoiselle," said Rodolphe, letting fall
on the balcony two or three lucifers rolled up in paper.

"A thousand thanks," replied Sidonia, lighting her cigarette.

"Pray, mademoiselle," continued Rodolphe, "in exchange for the trifling
service which my good angel has permitted me to render you, may I ask
you to do me a favor?"

"Asking already," thought the actress, as she regarded Rodolphe with
more attention. "They say these Turks are fickle, but very agreeable.
Speak sir," she continued, raising her head towards the young man, "what
do you wish?"

"The charity of a little tobacco, mademoiselle, only one pipe. I have
not smoked for two whole days."

"Most willingly, but how? Will you take the trouble to come downstairs?"

"Alas! I can't! I am shut up here, but am still free to employ a very
simple means." He fastened his pipe to a string, and let it glide down to
her balcony, where Sidonia filled it profusely herself. Rodolphe then
proceeded, with much ease and deliberation, to remount his pipe, which
arrived without accident. "Ah, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, "how much
better this pipe would have seemed, if I could have lighted it at your
eyes!"

It was at least the hundredth edition of this amiable pleasantry, but
Sidonia found it superb for all that, and thought herself bound to
reply, "You flatter me."

"I assure you, mademoiselle, in right-down earnest, I think you
handsomer than all the Three Graces together."

"Decidedly, Ali Baba is very polite," thought Sidonia. "Are you really a
Turk?" she asked Rodolphe.

"Not by profession," he replied, "but by necessity. I am a dramatic
author."

"I am an artist," she replied, then added, "My dear sir and neighbor,
will you do me the honor to dine and spend the evening with me?"

"Alas!" answered Rodolphe, "though your invitation is like opening
heaven to me, it is impossible to accept it. As I had the honor to tell
you, I am shut up here by my uncle, Monsieur Monetti, stove-maker and
chimney doctor, whose secretary I am now."

"You shall dine with me for all that," replied Sidonia. "Listen, I shall
re-enter my room, and tap on the ceiling.