A little later she told him she had to go to the Scala to sign her contract, and she issued an order that he was to take Mimisse out for a little exercise, and return for her in half an hour, when she would be dressed. So Henry went forth with Mimisse at the end of a strap. In the Boulevard de Clichy who should accost him but Tom, whom he had left asleep as usual at the hotel! 'What dog is that?' Tom asked. 'Cosette's,' said Henry, unsuccessfully trying to assume a demeanour at once natural and tranquil. 'My young friend,' said Tom, 'I perceive that it will be necessary to look after you. I was just going to my studio, but I will accompany you in your divagations.' They returned to the Rue de Bruxelles together. Cosette was dressed in all her afternoon splendour, for the undoing of theatrical managers. The role of woman _pot-au-feu_ was finished for that day. 'I'm off to Monte Carlo to-morrow,' said Tom to her. 'I'm going to paint a portrait there. And Henry will come with me.' 'To Monte Carlo?' Henry gasped. 'To Monte Carlo.' 'But----' 'Do you suppose I'm going to leave you here?' Tom inquired. 'And you can't return to London yet.' 'No,' said Cosette thoughtfully, 'not London.' They left her in the Boulevard de Strasbourg, and then Tom suggested a visit to the Luxembourg Gallery. It was true: a life-sized statue of Sappho, signed 'Dolbiac,' did in feet occupy a prominent place in the sculpture-room. Henry was impressed; so also was Tom, who explained to his young cousin all the beauties of the work. 'What else is there to see here?' Henry asked, when the stream of explanations had slackened. 'Oh, there's nothing much else,' said Tom dejectedly. They came away. This was the beginning and the end of Henry's studies in the monuments of Paris. At the hotel he found opportunity to be alone. He wished to know exactly where he stood, and which way he was looking. It was certain that the day had been unlike any other day in his career. 'I suppose that's what they call Bohemia,' he exclaimed wistfully, solitary in his bedroom. And then later: 'Jove! I've never written to Geraldine to-day!' CHAPTER XXV THE RAKE'S PROGRESS '_Faites vos jeux, messieurs_,' said the chief croupier of the table. Henry's fingers touched a solitary five-franc piece in his pocket, large, massive, seductive.