ndividually.

But Jean Marot had been magnified by newspaper controversy into a
formidable political leader; besides which there were young men here
who had followed him a few days before in the riots. Therefore he was
now the cynosure of curious attention.

From admiring glances the crowd of diners quickly passed to
complimentary language intended for his ears.

"He's a brave young man!" "You should have seen him that day!" "Ah,
but he's a fighter, is M. Marot!" "Un bon camarade!" "He is a
patriot!" etc.

These broken expressions were mingled with sly allusions to Mlle.
Fouchette from the women, who were consumed by envy. They had heard of
the Savatiere's conquest with disbelief, now they saw it with their
own eyes. The brazen thing! She was showing him off.

"She's caught on at last."

"Monsieur has more money than taste."

"Is he as rich as they say?"

"The skinny model."

"Model, bah!"

"Model for hair-pin, probably."

"The airs of that kicker!"

"He might have got a prettier mistress without trying hard."

"He'll find her a devil."

"Oh, there's no doubt about it. He has fitted up an elegant
appartement for her in the Rue St. Jacques."

"Rue St. Jacques. Faugh!"

It should be unnecessary to say that these encomiums were not designed
for the ears of Mlle. Fouchette, though the said ears must have burned
with self-consciousness. But it may be well enough to remark that
despite the spleen the object of it had risen immensely in the
estimation of the female as well as the male habitues of Cafe Weber.

As the couple occupied a table in the extreme rear, the patrons in
front found it convenient to go out by way of the Rue Champollion in
order to see if not to bow to the distinguished guest.

The apparent fact that the new political leader had taken up with one
of the most notorious women of the Quartier Latin in no way detracted
from their esteem for him,--rather lent an agreeable piquancy to his
character. On the other hand, it raised Mlle. Fouchette to a certain
degree of respectability.

These demonstrations annoyed our young gentleman very much. Nothing
but this patent fact saved them from a general reception.

"It is provoking!" exclaimed his companion.

"I don't understand it at all," said he.

"I do," replied Mlle. Fouchette.

"And, see, little one, I don't like it."

"I knew you wouldn't, and that is why I suggested the right bank of
the river."

"True,--I always make a mistake