"Oh! do not say that. But pray listen to my story—it is very amusing, I assure you. I am just from the guardhouse."
"From the guardhouse! Why, what have you been doing?"
"It all grew out of a joke we intended to play on a certain young man; I and three of my friends were waiting for him on Place des Italiens. As he owes five hundred francs to a gentleman to whom he gave an olive as security,—it's a gambling debt,—we agreed that, as soon as he appeared, we would all rush upon him, each of us presenting an olive and demanding five hundred francs. But one of my friends, who is naturally very absent-minded, made a mistake and pounced upon a respectable citizen, who was waiting to buy a check for the Opéra-Comique. He was frightened, and shouted thief. We ran up, and so did the guard; to cut it short, we were all four taken to the guardhouse at the theatre, and I fancy we should have been locked up for the night, had it not been for a staff officer, a friend of my father, who happened to pass. He answered for us, and then they consented to believe that we were not thieves, and they set us at liberty."
Madame Baldimer laughed heartily at Albert's adventure. Meanwhile, he took up a package which he had deposited on a table when he came in, and placed it on the lovely widow's knees.
"See," he said, "is not this what you expressed a wish to possess?"
Madame Baldimer removed the paper, which contained a magnificent cashmere shawl. Her face was radiant and she bestowed the sweetest of smiles on the young man, murmuring:
"Oh! but you are really too gallant; it is too beautiful, and a present of such value—— No; I cannot accept it."
"You accept a superb fan from Count Dahlborne!"
"There's a vast difference between a fan and this; people will say that I lead you on to do foolish things."
"Ah! I shall be only too happy to do them, if your love is the reward."