“It is not exactly brilliant, but there are a great many people, and I noticed some very pretty women.” “Pretty women!--Wait till I arrange my cravat.” “But you know, Bélan, that this adventure was to have reformed you; that you swore never again to have anything to say to the ladies.” “I did not include all ladies; those who are free are not included in my oath. And then, deuce take it! a man may say that in the first excitement. Let us go to Giraud’s; I will sing; I know a new song. You will suggest to them to ask me to sing, won’t you?” “You evidently are determined that I shall be your confederate.” Bélan replied only by making a pirouette; he was in a state of frantic gayety. We walked to Giraud’s, and I advised him not to come in until a few moments after me; I did not wish to have the appearance of having gone to fetch him, and I tried to return unseen, as I had left. I found Giraud in the reception room, staring in dismay at his two lamps, which were on the point of going out. He did not see that I came in from outside, for he was entirely engrossed by his wicks; and he said as he handed one of them to me: “This is incomprehensible. You will bear witness that I am putting in new wicks; we will see if they char like the others.” “Yes, I see that you take a great deal of trouble to entertain us.” “Oh! when they once begin to burn well!--Théodore, Monsieur Théodore, will you be kind enough not to touch the cakes! For shame! A great boy of your age!--He is more of a glutton than his little brother.” “Let me take one, papa; I want it to play at having dinner.” “Play at having dinner, at eleven years! Aren’t you ashamed? Don’t touch the cake.--But it’s very slow inside! My wife don’t know how to keep things going. We ought to begin to dance. Monsieur Blémont, it would be very kind of you to start the dancing.” “You know very well that I don’t play the piano.” “No, but you might tell my wife to ask somebody to play a contradance. We don’t lack players.” “Before I do your errand, pray tell me who that pretty young woman in pink is who was sitting near the piano?” “In pink, near the piano--with gold ornaments in her hair?” “No, she hasn’t any gold in her hair; she is a blonde, rather pale, and exceedingly pretty.” “A blonde, pretty--you see there are several here in pink. Look you, when I have fixed my lamps, you must point her out to me.” I saw that there was nothing to be obtained from Monsieur Giraud at that moment, so I returned to the salon. A gentleman had seated himself at the piano, but not to play for dancing; it was to sing, to play preludes and detached passages, as he happened to remember them. Beside him was a friend, who, when he had finished one fragment of a tune, instantly asked for another, saying: “And that air from _Tancrède_. And the romanza from _Othello_. And that pretty bit from the overture to _Semiramide_.” “Oh, yes!” “Try to remember that.”