"So I ran through a succession of shakes, and squeals, and shrieks, and sometimes sang false, to the delight of an enthusiastic audience and my own intense gratification. One man never took his eyes off me; and, somehow, before I had finished my third or fourth bar, I found I had forgotten Manager, self, and company, and was singing to this man alone. When I went back at night to the bare little room I had hired during the afternoon, shall I confess to you that his face haunted me in the dark? And I dreamt of him--I did, upon my word--though I was so tired I fell dead asleep the instant I lay down." "My dear, you had fallen in love," observed her listener. "No, I hadn't," answered the other; "at least, not then. Next day I found a note and a bouquet from the Manager. I did wish for a moment it had been from somebody else; but it proved to me, at least, I was admired by an old fool, who might have been my grandfather, and so my vanity should have been gratified, but it only made me savage and irritable. I don't think I ever liked people one bit because they liked _me_! "That evening the same man was there to hear me sing again. I confess my heart gave a jump when I saw him, and I knew that _he_ knew it! He never applauded but once, and he shook his head whenever I made a false note. What pains I took, and how pleased I was, when he said 'Bravo!' out loud as I made my curtsy! I _was_ in love with him that night when I went to bed, and felt I had a right to dream of him as much as ever I liked. "It is not difficult to make acquaintance with a friendless girl singing for bread in a place like Paris. I thought it very hard that a whole week should pass without his speaking to me, though I saw him every night, always staring, and always in the same place. Of course the time came at last, and when I had him all to myself on two chairs, with a _deux-sous_ newspaper, in the Tuileries gardens, I did feel that life was something to enjoy, to revel in, to be grateful for. Mrs. Lascelles, I shall never be near heaven now, but I think I was then. I was so happy that it made me good. "I wonder if he knew what he was doing. Sometimes I think men are often brutes, only because they are fools. We were married though. I protest to you solemnly, as I am a living woman, we were married in a church! I took his name, such as it was, and when next I sang they put me in the bills as Madame Picquard. He did not like me to leave off my profession, he said, and I would have gone out willingly with a rake and a basket to earn my day's wages as a scavenger in the streets if he had only said it was a pleasant life.