After this rebuff (having learned, notwithstanding my friend's representations to the contrary, that a train ran from Courbevoie to Paris every half-hour up till midnight) I slipped away, leaving Müller and _ma cousine_ in the midst of a furious flirtation, and Madame Marotte fast asleep in her corner. The clocks were just striking twelve as I passed under the archway leading to the Cité Bergère. "_Tiens_!" said the fat concierge, as she gave me my key and my candle. "Monsieur has perhaps been to the theatre this evening? No!--to the country--to the fête at Courbevoie! Ah, then, I'll be sworn that M'sieur has had plenty of fun!" But had I had plenty of fun? That was the question. That Müller had had plenty of flirting and plenty of fun was a fact beyond the reach of doubt. But a flirtation, after all, unless in a one-act comedy, is not entertaining to the mere looker-on; and oh! must not those bridesmaids who sometimes accompany a happy couple in their wedding-tour, have a dreary time of it? CHAPTER XXVII. THE ÉCOLE DE NATATION. It seemed to me that I had but just closed my eyes, when I was waked by a hand upon my shoulder, and a voice calling me by my name. I started up to find the early sunshine pouring in at the window, and Franz Müller standing by my bedside. "_Tiens_!" said he. "How lovely are the slumbers of innocence! I was hesitating, _mon cher_, whether to wake or sketch you." I muttered something between a growl and a yawn, to the effect that I should have been better satisfied if he had left me alone. "You prefer everything that is basely self-indulgent, young man," replied Müller, making a divan of my bed, and coolly lighting his pipe under my very nose. "Contrary to all the laws of _bon-camaraderie_, you stole away last night, leaving your unprotected friend in the hands of the enemy. And for what?--for the sake of a few hours' ignominious oblivion! Look at me--I have not been to bed all night, and I am as lively as a lobster in a lobster-pot." "How did you get home?" I asked, rubbing my eyes; "and when?" "I have not got home at all yet," replied my visitor. "I have come to breakfast with you first." Just at this moment, the _pendule_ in the adjoining room struck six. "To breakfast!" I repeated. "At this hour?--you who never breakfast before midday!" "True, _mon cher_; but then you see there are reasons. In the first place, we danced a little too long, and missed the last train, so I was obliged to bring the dear creatures back to Paris in a fiacre. In the second place, the driver was drunk, and the horse was groggy, and the fiacre was in the last stage of dilapidation. The powers below only know how many hours we were on the road; for we all fell asleep, driver included, and never woke till we found ourselves at the Barrière de l'Étoile at the dawn of day." "Then what have you done with Madame Marotte and Mademoiselle Marie?"