"Freluchon was Monsieur Bocal's head clerk, and he was courting Mademoiselle Pétronille; and when she married that ass of a Pamphile Girie, she worked so well with her feet and hands, that Freluchon left Monsieur Bocal and went into the sponge trade; he became first clerk to Pétronille--you can guess the sequel! But it seems that Monsieur Pamphile has a mother who _sees everything_ and _knows everything_, just like the late _Solitaire;_ so Mamma Girie put a flea in her son's ear on the subject of Freluchon. Monsieur Pamphile wanted to discharge the clerk, but Madame Pétronille said he shouldn't. The husband and wife had a row; Monsieur Bocal tried to step in and take his daughter's part; Mère Girie pummelled Monsieur Bocal; they sent for the magistrate, the police, the neighbors, and the concierge; there was such a row that the omnibuses couldn't get through the street. As a result of that row, Pétronille left her husband and went back to her father; Pamphile neglected his shop to go on sprees; and Freluchon finally bought out his sponge business, and would like now to set me up in it with him; for I must tell you that my gentleman has forgotten his Pétronille and fallen in love with me, and buries me in billets-doux and sponges; on my birthday, he sent me one as big as a pumpkin. 'Monsieur,' says I, 'what use do you expect me to make of this immense marine plant?'--'Mademoiselle, I would like to cover you with it.'--And there you are! With the seven suitors favored by my aunts, that makes eight humming-birds who aspire to enter into wedlock with me." XXXIX A PARTY OF FOUR Rosette rattled all this off almost without drawing a breath. We laughed at her story, and she was well pleased with her successful performance. "But, by the way, Monsieur Charles, all that don't make me forget that you're going to take me into the country to dinner. And while we're on that subject--I've got an idea, and I'll tell you what it is; I tell all my ideas. Suppose we all four go and dine together, as we're in a mood for laughing; we'll have some sport and talk nonsense--what do you say?" Rosette's proposition seemed to me so extraordinary that I had not as yet thought of any fitting reply, when, to my amazement, Frédérique exclaimed: "For my part, I agree. I am at liberty, and, on my word, I shall not be sorry to have a little sport, especially as I got out of the way of it long ago." "Ah! you're fine, you are! I love you with all my heart, now!" said Rosette, slapping Frédérique on the back. "And you, Monsieur Larose, why don't you say something?" "I?" said Balloquet; "if you mean what you say, I'm game; nothing would suit me better." "Do I mean it! I hope you don't think we're going to dine on air, do you? Well, my dear friend, don't you think my plan's a good one? you don't seem enchanted with it!" "I? I beg your pardon; I will do whatever you wish." "But," said Frédérique, "Rochebrune would have preferred to dine alone with you, mademoiselle."