irza, by means of bribing her with sugar. The
unexpected return of Bathilde had interrupted this amusement; the
chevalier, in his egotistical delicacy, had shut his window; but, before
the window had been shut, a salute had been exchanged between the two
young people. This was more than Bathilde had ever accorded to any man,
not that she had not from time to time exchanged salutes with some
acquaintance of Buvat's, but this was the first time she had blushed as
she did so.

The next day Bathilde had seen the chevalier at his window, and, without
being able to understand the action, had seen him nail a crimson ribbon
to the outer wall; but what she had particularly remarked was the
extraordinary animation visible on the face of the young man. Half an
hour afterward she had seen with the chevalier a man perfectly unknown
to her, but whose appearance was not re-assuring; this was Captain
Roquefinette. Bathilde had also remarked, with a vague uneasiness, that,
as soon as the man with the long sword had entered, the chevalier had
fastened the door.

The chevalier, as is easy to understand, had a long conference with the
captain; for they had to arrange all the preparations for the evening's
expedition. The chevalier's window remained thus so long closed that
Bathilde, thinking that he had gone out, had thought she might as well
open hers.

Hardly was it open, however, when her neighbor's, which had seemed only
to wait the moment to put itself in communication with her, opened in
turn. Luckily for Bathilde, who would have been much embarrassed by this
circumstance, she was in that part of the room where the chevalier could
not see her. She determined, therefore, to remain where she was, and sat
down near the second half of the window, which was still shut.

Mirza, however, who had not the same scruples as her mistress, hardly
saw the chevalier before she ran to the window, placed her front paws on
the sill, and began dancing on her hind ones. These attentions were
rewarded, as she expected, by a first, then a second, then a third, lump
of sugar; but this third bit, to the no small astonishment of Bathilde,
was wrapped up in a piece of paper.

This piece of paper troubled Bathilde a great deal more than it did
Mirza, who, accustomed to crackers and sucre de pomme, soon got the
sugar out of its envelope by means of her paws; and, as she thought very
much of the inside, and very little of the wrapper, she ate the sugar,
an