As I walked along, musing thus, I reached Giraud’s door. Should I go upstairs? Why not? I would pretend that I had lost a cane, a switch, the night before. I never carried one, but no matter. It was two o’clock, and I thought that Giraud would be in his office. I went up, and found the door on the landing open. The three children, dressed like little thieves, and as dirty as ragpickers, were in the reception room, playing with the dog, on whose head they had put their father’s black silk night-cap. I noticed that the rooms had not been put to rights. The maid was sweeping the salon, and told me that Giraud was at home. I supposed that he was in his office; but the little girl called out to me that her papa was dressing her mamma, and I dared not venture to enter Madame Giraud’s chamber. Someone went to call monsieur and I waited in the dust, pursued by the broom. At last Giraud appeared, wringing his hands and making wry faces. “Good-morning, my dear Blémont.” “I am distressed to have disturbed you; I came up as I was passing, to----” “You do not disturb me in the least; on the contrary, you have put an end to my sufferings. I was doing my utmost to fasten my wife’s dress. Ah! my thumbs! heavens! how they ache! I couldn’t succeed in doing it, and yet she pretends that her dress is too big; I don’t believe a word of it. Françoise, go and fasten my wife’s dress.” “But, monsieur, you know very well that madame says I go about it awkwardly, that I’m not strong enough.” “Never mind, go; you can finish the salon afterward.” I supposed that we should go into his office and that we should find a fire there, for it was not warm; but Giraud invited me to sit down on the couch, saying: “I don’t take you into my office, because it hasn’t been put to rights yet. Lord! how my thumbs ache!--But we can talk as well here; the fire will be lighted as soon as the salon is swept. Is it late? I haven’t found time to dress yet.” “Why, it is after two o’clock.” “Mon Dieu! and I have three appointments for this afternoon, to interview people who want to be married.” “I do not wish to detain you.” “Don’t go; they must wait for me. In truth, nothing is ever done here.--My friend, marriage is a very fine thing! I hope that you will soon take your place in the class of respectable married men.” “Oh! I have time enough.” “You must be tired of a bachelor’s life?” “No, indeed.” “Did you see anyone at my party yesterday who interested you? Come, tell me about it.” “Oh, no! that isn’t what brings me here; but I thought that perhaps I left a pretty little stick of mine last night.” “A stick! you must ask the children about that; they are the ones who find everything that is left here. They are as smart as little demons.--Théodore, Alexandre, daughter----” “Oh, don’t disturb them.” “Yes, yes; I am not sorry to have you see them, they are so cunning in their answers.”