I determined then on applying to my individuals, not the system of Linnæus, but that of Jussien, that of affinities and analogies. The latter appeared to me to be more suitable and easier than the former. The young man was dressed in a very simple and even negligent style, wearing those high heeled shoes, three-quarter boots, which have succeeded the half boots, (boots, since the introduction of comfort among us, having steadily lessened,) and had not even straps to his pantaloons. A pearl colored sack, colored shirt, and traveling cap with a large visor, completed his costume. Near him walked a young woman, of the middle height and finely formed, but with such an air of indolence in her movements, flexibility of the body, and jogging of the haunches, as proclaimed a southern origin or a want of distinction. They advanced with their heads down, speaking without looking up, and walking side by side without taking arms, but from time to time one leant on the shoulder of the other, with a movement full of affection. It was not until we crossed them that I could see their figures; until then I had been able to study only their costume and general outline. The young man blushed on recognizing my companion, and saluted him with a very humble air; I had scarcely time, however, to catch a single pathognomic line of his face. The female was very handsome; the elegance of her neck, the regularity of her features, gave her a certain air of distinction, contradicted, however, by something provoking in her appearance. When they had passed on some distance, my friend said to me: “Well, what judgment do you pass on our two persons?” “Well,” replied I, positively, “the young man is your confectioner, who is about to marry his head shop-girl;” but reading a sign of negation on the countenance of my interrogator—“or a successful merchant’s clerk, with a countess without prejudices.” “You are wrong.” I asked for a moment’s reflection, and, to render my work of observation perfect, I looked after them. They had reached, near the place where we were, the side of a spring, called, in the country, the “Priest’s Fountain.” The young female had already seated herself upon the grass, and drawing forth a napkin spread it near her, whilst the young man drew a paté and some other provisions carefully from his basket. “Certainly,” I said to myself, “there are, evidently, in the face of this beautiful person, traits both of the great lady and the grisette; but, on thinking of her rolling fashion of walking, and especially judging of her by the appearance of her companion, then stooping to uncork a bottle, and whose unstrapped pantaloons, riding half way up his leg, revealed his quarter boots, the grisette type prevailed in my opinion.” “The lady,” I replied, but with less assurance than at first, “is a figurante at one of our theatres, or a female equestrian at the Olympic circus.” “There is some truth in what you say.”