"You write poetry."
"Alas!..."
He came up to me and said roguishly—
"Are the poems you compose the same style of thing as his?"
"No, monsieur."
"Ah! I thought not. Piron was a gay young dog!... I saw him at Madame de Montesson's.... I suppose you never knew Madame de Montesson, did you?"
"Yes, I did, monsieur; my father took me to her house when I was quite a child."
"She was a charming woman, monsieur, a charming woman, and she entertained the best society of Paris."
"Now, monsieur," I asked, "will you please give me some fresh work?"
"What work?"