the floor. She collected them carefully, placed
them on the table, and dexterously fitted the pieces together until the
entire note-sheet lay before her. It was covered with writing which had
evidently been traced by a hurried hand, yet the child seemed to have no
difficulty in reading it.

When she heard the old gentleman's footstep on the staircase, she
brushed the scraps of paper from the table, and hastened to open the
door before the signal was given; and when he exhibited his purchase she
danced for joy.

"It is just like my ball-gown--exactly like it!" she exclaimed, kissing
the hands of her benefactor. Then the old gentleman clothed the child as
skilfully as if he were accustomed to such work. When the task was
finished he looked about him, and saw the scraps of paper on the floor;
he swept them together, and threw them into the fire.

Then, with the hand of his little companion clasped in his own, he
descended to the street in quest of a cab to take them to the Palace of
Narcissus.

The Palace of Narcissus had originally been the property of the
celebrated danseuse, Mlle. Guimard, for whom it had been built by the
Duke de Soubise. Like so many other fine houses, it had been confiscated
by the Revolution and sold at auction--or, rather, had been disposed of
by lottery, a lady who had paid one hundred and twenty francs for her
ticket winning it.

The winner of the palace sold it to M. Perigaud, a banker and shrewd
speculator, who divided the large dwelling into suites of apartments,
which became the favorite lodgings of the young men of fashion. These
young men were called the "narcissi," and later, the "incroyables" and
"_petits creves_." The building, however, retained the name of the
Palace of Narcissus.

When the fiacre stopped at the door of the palace which led to her
mama's apartment, the little countess alighted with her escort, and said
to the coachman:

"You need not wait; the marquis will return home in my mama's carriage."

M. Cambray was obliged to submit to be called the "marquis." The
harmless fib was due to the rank of the little countess; she could not
have driven through the streets of Paris in the same fiacre with a
_pekin_!

"We will not go up the main staircase," said the child, taking her
companion's arm and leading him into the palace. "I don't want to meet
any of the servants. We will go directly to mama's boudoir, and take her
by surprise."

The countess mother, however, was