This jest had immense success, never had Musette's evenings displayed such go and gaiety; they were still dancing and singing when the porters came to take away furniture and carpets and the company was obliged to withdraw. Musette bowed her guests out, singing: "They will laugh long and loud, tralala, At my Thursday night's crowd They will laugh long and loud, tralala." Marcel and Rodolphe alone remained with Musette, who ascended to her room where there was nothing left but the bed. "Ah, but my adventure is no longer such a lively one after all," said Musette. "I shall have to take up my quarters out of doors." "Oh madame!" said Marcel, "if I had the gifts of Plutus I should like to offer you a temple finer than that of Solomon, but--" "You are not Plutus. All the same I thank you for your good intentions. Ah!" she added, glancing around the room, "I was getting bored here, and then the furniture was old. I had had it nearly six months. But that is not all, after the dance one should sup." "Let us sup-pose," said Marcel, who had an itch of punning, above all in the morning, when he was terrible. As Rodolphe had gained some money at the lansquenet played during the evening, he carried off Musette and Marcel to a restaurant which was just opening. After breakfast, the three, who had no inclination for sleep, spoke of finishing the day in the country, and as they found themselves close to the railway station they got into the first train that started, which landed them at Saint Germain. During the whole of the night of the party and all of the rest of the day Marcel, who was gunpowder which a single glance sufficed to kindle, had been violently smitten by Mademoiselle Musette and paid her "highly-colored court," as he put it to Rodolphe. He even went so far as to propose to the pretty girl to buy her furniture handsomer than the last with the result of the sale of his famous picture, "The Passage of the Red Sea." Hence the artist saw with pain the moment arrive when it became necessary to part from Musette, who whilst allowing him to kiss her hands, neck and sundry other accessories, gently repulsed him every time that he tried to violently burgle her heart. On reaching Paris, Rodolphe left his friend with the girl, who asked the artist to see her to her door. "Will you allow me to call on you?" asked Marcel, "I will paint your portrait." "My dear fellow," replied she, "I cannot give you my address, since tomorrow I may no longer have one, but I will call and see you, and I will mend your coat, which has a hole so big that one could shoot the moon through it." "I will await your coming like that of the messiah," said Marcel. "Not quite so long," said Musette, laughing. "What a charming girl," said Marcel to himself, as he slowly walked away. "She is the Goddess of Mirth. I will make two holes in my coat." He had not gone twenty paces before he felt himself tapped on the shoulder. It was Mademoiselle Musette.