ight have carried a lighted taper through the streets.
Finding it thus warm, Madame de Marignan proposed walking down the line
of carriages, instead of waiting till her own came up; and so she and M.
Delaroche led the way and I followed. Having found the carriage, he
assisted her in, placed her fan and bouquet on the opposite seat,
lingered a moment at the open door, and had the unparalleled audacity to
raise her hand to his lips at parting. As for me, I stood proudly back,
and lifted my hat.

"_Comment_!" she said, holding out her hand--the pretty, ungloved hand
that had just been kissed--"is that your good night?"

I bowed over the hand, I would not have touched it with my lips at that
moment for all the wealth of Paris.

"You are coming to me to-morrow morning at twelve?" she murmured
tenderly.

"If Madame desires it."

"Of course I desire it. I am going to Auteuil, to look at a house for a
friend--and to Pignot's for some flowers--and to Lubin's for some
scent--and to a host of places. What should I do without you? Nay, why
that grave face? Have I done anything to offend you?"

"Madame, I--I confess that--"

"That you are jealous of that absurd Delaroche, who is so much in love
with himself that he has no place in his heart for any one else! _Fi
donc!_ I am ashamed of you. There--adieu, twelve to-morrow!"

And with this she laughed, waved her hand, gave the signal to drive on,
and left me looking after the carriage, still irritated but already
half consoled.

I then sauntered moodily on, thinking of my tyrant, and her caprices,
and her beauty. Her smile, for instance; surely it was the sweetest
smile in the world--if only she were less lavish of it! Then, what a
delicious little hand--if mine were the only lips permitted to kiss it!
Why was she so charming?--or why, being so charming, need she prize the
attentions of every _flaneur_ who had only enough wit to admire her? Was
I not a fool to believe that she cared more for my devotion than for
another's! Did I believe it? Yes ... no ... sometimes. But then that
"sometimes" was only when under the immediate influence of her presence.
She fascinated me; but she would fascinate a hundred others in precisely
the same way. It was true that she accepted from me more devotion, more
worship, more time, more outward and visible homage than from any other.
Was I not her _Cavaliere servente?_ Did she not accept my bouquets? Did
she not say the other day, when I gave