"Yes, monsieur; to see a young and pretty blonde. You like blondes now, it seems! You like 'em of all colors, don't you?"

"And this blonde whom I go to see is my mistress, is she?"

"Oh, no! she may be your laundress, who knows? And you go there to watch her iron your shirts! Ha! ha! ha! Why don't you tell us that? it would be more amusing."

"I won't tell you that, because I have no reason to lie."

"Oh! of course not! To be sure, you're your own master, you can do what you think best. It seems that she came here one day—your blonde—and ran away as if the devil was after her. Oh! how sorry I am I wasn't here that day, when she honored you with a visit! I'd have led her a pretty dance! I'd have sent her mazurking down the stairs! But, who knows? perhaps I shall meet her one of these days. As you pass all your time with her now, it's probable that it will soon be her turn to come here. Just let me meet her! You see, I'm not very gentle when I'm jealous! I'll box that woman's ears; yes, monsieur, yes, I'll box her ears!"

I listened to Rosette without winking. Frédérique said nothing, but kept her eyes on me.

"You're not so wicked as you try to make people think, Rosette," said I, trying to take her hand, which she snatched away. "If you should find the young woman you speak of here, you would not insult her, I trust; for it would be as absurd as your insulting madame."

"What do you say? Do you want to make us believe that the blonde is just a friend of yours? Oh! my boy, that may do for once. Madame Frédérique here is your friend, but you don't pass all your time with her, I believe.—Does he, madame?"

"Oh! I see very little of monsieur!" rejoined Frédérique, with a gesture of annoyance; "and when by chance he does condescend to pay me a visit, he seizes the first pretext to retire. I know that friends ought not to stand on ceremony; but it would be possible to be more frank and outspoken."

This was said in a tone which indicated that she was seriously offended. Suddenly Rosette darted at me, as if she meant to claw my eyes out, crying: