"I was only trying to gratify your vanity a little,—the vanity of a Batignollais, you know. My conquest, as that harebrained Gerald is pleased to call it, is no conquest at all; besides, the lady in question is not really a duchess, though people call her so."
"And why, pray?" inquired Gerald.
"Because they say she is as proud and beautiful as any duchess."
"But who is she? In my character of duke, my curiosity on this point should be gratified," insisted Gerald.
"She is a music teacher," replied Olivier. "She is degrading herself terribly, you see."
"Say rather the piano is becoming ennobled by the touch of her taper fingers,—for she must have the hands of a duchess, of course. Come now, tell us all about it. If you're in love, whom should you take into your confidence if not your uncle and your former comrade?"
"I sincerely wish I had the right to take you into my confidence," said Olivier, laughing; "but to tell the truth, this is the first time I ever saw the young girl."
"But tell us all you know about her."
"There is a Madame Herbaut who has rooms on the second floor of the house," replied Olivier, "and every Sunday this excellent woman invites a number of young girls, friends of her daughters, to spend the evening with her. Some are bookkeepers or shop girls, others are drawing teachers, or music teachers, like the duchess. There are several very charming girls among them, I assure you, though they work hard all day to earn an honest living. And how intensely they enjoy their Sunday with kind Madame Herbaut! They play games, and dance to the music of the piano. It is very amusing to watch them, and twice when Madame Barbançon took me up to Madame Herbaut's rooms—"
"I demand an introduction to Madame Herbaut,—an immediate introduction, do you hear?" cried the young duke.