When he asked me my age, he said, _insinuatingly_, "Vous êtes bien jeune, Madame, pour circuler seule ainsi dans Paris." I answered, "Je ne suis pas seule, Monsieur. Mon mari [I thought it best to tell this lie] m'attend dans la voiture de Monsieur Washburn et il doit être bien étonné de ma longue absence." I considered this extremely diplomatic. Turning to the man at the mantelpiece, he said, "Grousset, do you think we ought to allow the _citoyenne_ to leave Paris?" Grousset (the man addressed) stepped forward and looked at Mr. Washburn's card, saying something in an undertone to Rigault, which caused him instantly to change his manner toward me (I don't know which was worse, his overbearing or his fawning manner). "You must forgive me," he said, "if I linger over your visit here. We don't often have such luck, do we, Grousset?" I thought I should faint! Probably the man Grousset noticed my emotion, for he came to my rescue and said, politely, "Madame Moulton, j'ai eu l'honneur de vous voir à un bal à l'Hôtel de Ville l'année dernière." I looked up with surprise. He was a very handsome fellow, and I remembered quite well having seen him somewhere; but did not remember where. I was happy indeed to find any one who knew me and could vouch for me, and told him so. He smiled. "I venture to present myself to you, Madame. I am Pascal Grousset. Can I be of any service to you?" "Indeed you can," I answered, eagerly. "Please tell Monsieur Rigault to give me my passport; it seems to have been a colossal undertaking to get it." I preferred the _Pascal_ G. to the _Rascal_ R. Grousset and Rigault had a little conversation together, and presto! my longed-for passport lay before me to sign. No Elsa ever welcomed her Lohengrin coming out of the clouds as I did my Lohengrin coming from the mantelpiece. I signed my name quickly enough; Rigault put the official seal on it, and, rising from his chair, politely handed it to me. Before taking my leave of the now over-polite Prefect, I asked him how much there was to pay. He courteously replied, "Rien, absolument rien," and added he was glad to be of any service to me; and if there was anything more he could do, I had only to command. I did not say that I thought he had done enough for one day, but I bowed him good-by and turned to go out. Mr. Pascal Grousset offered me his arm, begging to take me to my carriage. The gendarmes threw open doors, and we retraced our steps through all the different rooms until we reached the one where I had left Mademoiselle W----, whom I expected to find waiting for me in agonizing anxiety. But what did I see? Mademoiselle sound asleep on the bench, bag, smile, and all, gazed at and guarded by the dreaded soldiers. "I am afraid," said Pascal Grousset, "that you have been greatly annoyed this morning. Your interview with the Prefect must have been most painful to you!"