"If that were true, monsieur, it would be most unfortunate for a great many people, for Paris isn't big enough to hold the whole world. But I think myself that one can be very happy elsewhere, when one is with those whom one loves and is able to confine one's desires within reasonable limits." "That is true, charming Georgette; you talk like Virgil, or Delille. It was the latter, I believe, who said: "'Les vrais plaisirs aux champs ont fixé leur séjour; On y craint plus les dieux, on y fait mieux l'amour!'[C] But as for making love, with all deference to Delille, that can be done very well in Paris; indeed, the art is carried to perfection here; and if you would only be less cruel to me---- But you are distraught! You don't seem to be listening!" "What did you say, monsieur?" "There! I was sure of it; you weren't listening to me! But I forgive you; the departure of your childhood's friend has saddened you. Come, you absolutely must have some diversion! To-morrow will be Sunday, and we must enjoy the day. Will you dine with me?" "With pleasure." "I will call for you at five o'clock; be ready then. We will dine at Bonvalet's, on the boulevard." "Wherever you choose; it's all the same to me." "Well, then, at Bonvalet's; they treat one very well there. Then we will go to one of the theatres opposite. It's all settled; and until then I leave you with your memories. Au revoir, dear neighbor, until to-morrow!" Dupont took his leave, rubbing his hands and saying to himself: "To-morrow will see my triumph! Between now and then, I will go to Bonvalet's, I will speak to one of the waiters, I will suborn him in my interest, and I will engage a private dining-room in advance, even though I have to pay its weight in gold!" VI A PRIVATE DINING-ROOM The next day, punctually at five o'clock, Dupont appeared. He found Georgette dressed in her best clothes, but still pensive and careworn. "Decidedly, you regret your childhood's friend too much," said Dupont, with a smile. "You were always so light-hearted, singing all the time--I should hardly recognize you now!" "It isn't Colinet's going away that makes me thoughtful." "Oho! it isn't that? Then there's something else, is there?" "Perhaps so." "Something which you will confide to me?" "I think not." "In that case, let us go to dinner." They went to the restaurant on Boulevard du Temple. As they were about to ascend the flight of stairs leading to the first floor, three gentlemen who seemed to have dined very well came down. One of them, finding himself face to face with Dupont, uttered an exclamation of surprise as he looked at him, and slapped him on the back. "Well, upon my word!" he cried; "this is an unexpected meeting! It's Dupont, dear old Dupont! What does this mean? You are in Paris, and haven't been to see me?" Dupont turned scarlet, he hung his head, and stammered: "Ah! is it you, Jolibois? Bonjour! How are you? Adieu!"