I took a cigar, and the baron an ordinary pipe, and in a moment we were all smoking for dear life. Herr von Brunzbrack, whom the pipe seemed to make thirsty, emptied his glass very frequently and belauded the champagne; for my part, the malvoisie suited my taste exactly; and I had such an exquisite sense of well-being, seated at that table beside that original creature, who acted just like a man! "Messieurs," she said, blowing a cloud of smoke at the ceiling, "life has some very pleasant moments." "It is delicious to me just now." "Id runs ein leedle; but id is gut." "What's that, baron? your life runs a little?" "I did not untershtand; I said id of mein bibe." "Oh, indeed!--It's a pity that we have bad days, that melancholy thoughts sometimes take possession of us!" "Melancholy thoughts come only as a result of disappointments of the heart." "True, you are right, Rochebrune; that is why your thoughts are so sad to-night, isn't it? The handsome Mondival distanced you; he had the pole to-night. Ha! ha! what a way to talk about love! What will you think of me? that I am a very _mauvais sujet_, eh?" "We should be too fortunate if that were so!" "Ach, ja! as mein frent Rochebrune say--if id vas so---- _Sapremann_, id is running again!" "Pray take another pipe, baron; there are enough to choose from." A thought that had come to my mind several times during supper still absorbed me. I do not know whether Frédérique could read it in my eyes, but, after looking at me a moment, she said: "What are you thinking about? Come, tell me! It has come to your lips several times, and you keep it back. Is it something very unkind, pray, that you are afraid to say it?" "No; it's a very natural reflection, but one that I have no right to make, perhaps." "But you seem to have taken the liberty to make it. I don't like the things one keeps back; they are more dangerous." "Your gut healt', montame, and te bleazure id gif me to schmoke tis bibe in your company." "Thanks, baron, thanks!" "Vill you trink mit me?" "Certainly I will." While she honored Brunzbrack's toast, Frédérique kept her eyes on me, and they peremptorily bade me to speak. "Well, madame," I began, hesitatingly. "Why do you continue to call me _madame_? I call you Rochebrune." "But, if not that, what may I presume to call you?" "I have told you to look upon me as your friend, your comrade. If I were a man, you would call me Frédérique, as I call you Rochebrune; so, call me Frédérique." "I shall never dare!" "Why not, when I give you leave?" "Because you don't seem to me in the least like a man." She smiled queerly, passed her hand over her head, took off her little cap and tossed it on the floor, ran her fingers through her curls, rumpled up the _bandeau_, and made curls of that, saying, as she thus rearranged her coiffure: "Does Monsieur Charles Rochebrune refuse to tell me what he has had on the tip of his tongue several times?"