u! It is Monsieur Marot!"

"Hello! Madeleine,--you, Fouchette?"

"Yes, monsieur," replied the latter gayly. "And you,--is it a day to
dream of casting one's self into the Seine?"

Meanwhile, the object of this raillery was busily extracting bits of
colored paper from his eyebrows and neck,--a wholly useless
proceeding, for both girls immediately deluged him with a fresh
avalanche.

Madeleine was in her costume a la bicyclette, her sailor hat tipped
forward to such a degree that it was necessary for her to elevate her
stout chin in order to see anything on a level. Mlle. Fouchette
affected the clinging, fluffy style of costume best suited to her
figure, while her rare blonde hair a la Merode was her distinguishing
feature. She dominated the older and stouter girl as if the latter
were an irresponsible junior.

Jean Marot knew very well the type of grisette indigenous to the
Quartier Latin.

The day justified all sorts of familiarity, and his black velvet beret
and flowing black scarf were an invitation to fraternity, good
fellowship, and confidence.

Both young women were in high spirits and carried in bags of fancy
netting with tricolor draw-strings their surplus stock of confetti,
and an enormous quantity of the surplus stock of other manifestants in
their hair and clothing. As fast as Jean picked out the confetti from
his neck Mlle. Madeleine playfully squandered other handfuls on him,
winding up by covering the young man with the entire contents of her
bag at a single coup.

"Ah! Madeleine!"

"Monsieur will buy us some more," replied that young woman.

"How foolish!" said Mlle. Fouchette, affecting a charming modesty. She
had a way of cocking her fair head to one side like a bird.

"Never mind, mes enfants," said Jean. "Come along."

The three linked arms and passed off the bridge and up the Rue
Dauphine and Rue de Monsieur le Prince for Boulevard St. Michel, the
lively young women distributing confetti in liberal doses and taking
similar punishment in utmost good humor, Jean not sorry for the time
being at finding this temporary distraction. He had generously
replenished the pretty bags from the first baraque, though they were
quickly emptied again in the narrow Rue de Monsieur le Prince, where a
hot engagement between students and "filles du quartier" was in
progress.

Mlle. Madeleine was fairly choking with laughter. She had just caught
a young man with his mouth open, by a trick of the elbow; an