"Then we'll go to the Cirque-National. They give fairy plays there, with transformation scenes;—you'll like that, Colinet."
"I'll go wherever you say, Mamzelle Georgette."
"It's strange," thought Dupont, "that she addresses this young man thou, while he uses you. After all, that's better than if it was the other way."
That evening, he escorted Mademoiselle Georgette and young Colinet to the theatre of the Circus on Boulevard du Temple. I do not need to tell you that the numerous theatres that imparted so much animation to that boulevard were not then demolished. The play was a fairy extravaganza, a mixture of dancing and marvellous exploits, with frequent changes of scenery. The rather scant costumes of the female dancers made Colinet lower his eyes; sometimes he even turned his head away just when most of the spectators had their opera glasses fastened on the forms of those ladies.
"Well, well! what are you thinking about?" Dupont would exclaim, nudging the young man; "you look away at the most delicious moment!"
"I'm afraid of offending those ladies, if I look at them when they lift their legs in our direction," Colinet would reply, with a blush.
"Poor fellow! he certainly isn't dangerous!" was Dupont's conclusion. "Still, my pretty embroiderer pays no attention to anyone else. When I speak to her, she hardly answers me, she doesn't seem to listen. I long for the time when her childhood's friend will return to his sheep."
Dupont's wishes were soon gratified. On the Saturday Colinet said farewell to Georgette, who gave him two letters for her sisters and kisses for her parents. The young man took charge of them all, and went away sadly enough.
"Why don't you come back with me?" he asked Georgette. "I should be so happy to take you back to the province! Do you enjoy yourself so very much in Paris, mamzelle?"
"It isn't that I enjoy myself so much, Colinet; but I must stay here—I must!"