That evening, he escorted Mademoiselle Georgette and young Colinet to the theatre of the Circus on Boulevard du Temple. I do not need to tell you that the numerous theatres that imparted so much animation to that boulevard were not then demolished. The play was a fairy extravaganza, a mixture of dancing and marvellous exploits, with frequent changes of scenery. The rather scant costumes of the female dancers made Colinet lower his eyes; sometimes he even turned his head away just when most of the spectators had their opera glasses fastened on the forms of those ladies. "Well, well! what are you thinking about?" Dupont would exclaim, nudging the young man; "you look away at the most delicious moment!" "I'm afraid of offending those ladies, if I look at them when they lift their legs in our direction," Colinet would reply, with a blush. "Poor fellow! he certainly isn't dangerous!" was Dupont's conclusion. "Still, my pretty embroiderer pays no attention to anyone else. When I speak to her, she hardly answers me, she doesn't seem to listen. I long for the time when her childhood's friend will return to his sheep." Dupont's wishes were soon gratified. On the Saturday Colinet said farewell to Georgette, who gave him two letters for her sisters and kisses for her parents. The young man took charge of them all, and went away sadly enough. "Why don't you come back with me?" he asked Georgette. "I should be so happy to take you back to the province! Do you enjoy yourself so very much in Paris, mamzelle?" "It isn't that I enjoy myself so much, Colinet; but I must stay here--I must!" "And will you have to stay long?" "I don't know; we will hope not. But I promise you, Colinet, that the day that takes me back to my parents will be the happiest day in my life." "And in mine too, mamzelle." "Really, Colinet? then you have much--friendship for me?" "I don't know what I have; but I would like never to leave you again." "We shall meet again, Colinet; don't forget me. I promise not to forget you." "Ah! Mamzelle Georgette, that promise makes me very happy!" And to prove his joy the poor boy burst into tears; then he kissed Georgette and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him, because he felt that if he delayed any longer he would not have the courage to go at all. Dupont called on his neighbor in the afternoon; he found her sad and thoughtful. "I opine that the young shepherd has gone," he said. "Yes, monsieur. He is very lucky: he is going to see my father and mother!" "No doubt. But it must be very monotonous to look at sheep all the time. You see, charming Georgette, there's nothing like Paris! It is the home of all pleasures; it is the place to which all the great talents, all the people of renown, come to be applauded! In a word, one really lives in Paris; elsewhere, one only vegetates!"