a
pleasant subject to you,--it is painful to me."

"Oh, pardon me, mademoiselle, I----"

"So it is understood, is it not?"

"With all my heart, mademoiselle!" said Fouchette, not sorry to
conclude such a desirable bargain.

"Very good. We begin here----"

"Now."

"Yes, and as if we had never before seen or heard of each other."

"Exactly."

"Good! Now, what are you doing for a living, Fouchette?"

"Nothing."

"Good! So am I."

They laughed quite a great deal at this remarkable coincidence as they
went along. And when Mlle. Fouchette protested that she must do
something,--sewing, or something,--Mlle. Madeleine laughed yet more
loudly, though Mlle. Fouchette saw nothing humorous in the situation.

"Nobody works in the Quartier Latin," said Madeleine. "C'est la vie
joyeuse."

"But one must eat, mademoiselle----"

"Very sure! Yes, and drink; but----"

Mlle. Madeleine scrutinized her companion closely,--evidently Mlle.
Fouchette was in earnest. Such naivete in a ragpicker was absurd,
preposterous!

"Well, there are the studios," suggested Madeleine.

"The--the studios?"

"Yes,--the painters, you know; only models are a drug in the market
here----"

"Models?"

"Yes; and, then, unless one has the figure----" she glanced at
Fouchette doubtfully. "I'm getting too stout for anything but Roman
mothers, Breton peasants, etc. You're too thin even for an angel or
ballet dancer."

"I'm sure I'd rather be a danseuse than an angel," said
Fouchette,--"that is, if I've got any choice in the matter."

"But one hasn't. You've got to pose in whatever character they want.
Did you ever pose?"

"As a painter's model? Never."

Having ensconced themselves in a popular cafe restaurant on Boulevard
St. Michel, the pair ordered an appetizing dejeuner, and Madeleine
proceeded to enlighten Fouchette on the subject of the profession,--the
character and peculiarities of various artists, their exactions of
models, the recompense for holding a certain pose for a given time, the
difficulty and art of resuming exactly the same pose, the studios for
classes in the nude, the students generally and their pranks and
games,--especially upon this latter branch of the business.

Mlle. Fouchette listened to all this with breathless interest, as may
be imagined. For it was the opening up of a new world to her. The
vivid description of the dancing and fun at the Bal Bullier filled her
with delight and enthusiasm. She mentally vow