“What a miserable country! Without an Opera! What do you do, then?”
“One is miserable s’ennuie, Mademoiselle, because you are not there!”
“That is very gallant. By the bye, you have beautiful fans in your country; the nephew of a peer of France gave me a Chinese fan as a New Year’s gift—un bijou adorable; the sticks were of ivory, with incrustations of silver filigree work, and the picture of two yellow cats playing with their tails as they ran in a circle; but I lost it at ‘Muzard’s.’”
“It is very easy to replace it, Mademoiselle; I brought thirty-three with me, made at the celebrated manufactory of Zhe-hol.”
“Is it possible! And what will you do with such a collection?”
“They are intended as presents for the wives of ministers and ambassadors.”
“Bah! the wives of ministers will laugh at your fans; and they are only old withered faces! If I had your thirty-three fans, I would make all the first danseuses in Paris die of chagrin.”
“Mademoiselle, they shall be at your door to-morrow morning.”
“No one can be more French than you, sir; but who would have expected it of a Chinaman. I will give you my address—“Mademoiselle Alexandrine, de Saint Phar, Rue de Provence, on the first floor.” My porter receives my presents any time after seven o’clock in the morning, and places them scrupulously in the hand of my chambermaid after mid-day.”
She made a pirouette, and disappeared.