nto which she entered were simple,
frank and rustic as the love-making of Moliere's peasants. "You want me
and I should like you too, shake hands on it and let us enjoy
ourselves." A dozen times if she had liked Musette could have secured a
good position, which is termed a future, but she did not believe in the
future and professed the scepticism of Figaro respecting it.

"Tomorrow," she sometimes remarked, "is an absurdity of the almanac, it
is a daily pretext that men have invented in order to put off their
business today. Tomorrow may be an earthquake. Today, at any rate, we
are on solid ground."

One day a gentleman with whom she had stayed nearly six months, and who
had become wildly in love with her, seriously proposed marriage.
Musette burst out laughing in his face at this offer.

"I imprison my liberty in the bonds of matrimony? Never," said she.

"But I pass my time in trembling with fear of losing you."

"It would be worse if I were your wife. Do not let us speak about that
any more. Besides, I am not free," she added, thinking no doubt of
Marcel.

Thus she passed her youth, her mind caught by every straw blown by the
breeze of fancy, causing the happiness of a great many and almost happy
herself. Vicomte Maurice, under whose protection she then was, had a
great deal of difficulty in accustoming himself to her untamable
disposition, intoxicated with freedom, and it was with jealous
impatience that he awaited the return of Musette after having seen her
start off to Marcel's.

"Will she stay there?" he kept asking himself all the evening.

"Poor Maurice," said Musette to herself on her side. "He thinks it
rather hard. Bah! Young men must go through their training."

Then her mind turning suddenly to other things, she began to think of
Marcel to whom she was going, and while running over the recollections
reawakened by the name of her erst adorer, asked herself by what miracle
the table had been spread at his dwelling. She re-read, as she went
along, the letter that the artist had written to her, and could not help
feeling somewhat saddened by it. But this only lasted a moment. Musette
thought aright, that it was less than ever an occasion for grieving, and
at that moment a strong wind spring up she exclaimed:

"It is funny, even if I did not want to go to Marcel's, this wind would
blow me there."

And she went on hurriedly, happy as a bird returning to its first nest.

All at once snow began to fa