Listen! It was a spring morning, and I was lolling at my study window, scenting the lilac in the air. Maximin, my secretary, came in and said:
"Mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent asks if she can see you, monsieur."
"Who is mademoiselle Jeanne Laurent?" I inquired.
"She is an actress begging for an engagement, monsieur."
"I regret that I am exceedingly busy. Tell her to write."
"The lady has already written a thousand times," he mentioned, going. "'Jeanne Laurent' has been one of the most constant contributors to our waste-paper basket."
"Then tell her that I regret I can do nothing for her. Mon Dieu! is it imagined that I have no other occupation than to interview nonentities? By the way, how is it you have bothered me about her, why this unusual embassy? I suppose she is pretty, hein?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"And young?"
"Yes, monsieur."