"Because I saw you in Paris one night in July—at the Marigny Theatre."
"Not at the Marigny."
"Yes. The Marigny."
"It is true. I recall it. I wore white and a yellow stole."
"Yes. You stood on the seat at the back of the Promenade to see a contortionist girl better, and then you jumped down. I thought you were delicious—quite delicious."
"Thou flatterest me. Thou sayest that to flatter me."
"No, no. I assure you I went to the Marigny every night for five nights afterwards in order to find you."
"But the Marigny is not my regular music-hall. Olympia is my regular music-hall."
"I went to Olympia and all the other halls, too, each night."
"Ah, yes! Then I must have left Paris. But why, my poor friend, why didst thou not speak to me at the Marigny? I was alone."