“Besides, her husband always went to something or other that he belonged to on Sunday night—yes, I know it was very bad form from a _salon_ standpoint to consider him at all; but you see she didn’t want it to look as if she had picked out the night when he _had_ to be away. And the Samedis did sound well. The first Samedi was a great success. Mrs. Brotcher wore a light mauve princess dress that was made for the occasion. She got together fifteen or twenty men somehow, and an elderly French woman, a rather lively widow with a sense of humor that would have been useful to Mrs. Brotcher, gave some admirable assistance in managing the crowd. By a happy stroke the French professor brought with him a young Frenchman who called himself the Comte de Trouvel, or something of that sort. Ed Tranton, who was there, and who didn’t miss anything, said that it was killing to see Mrs. Brotcher, who remained seated, motion the count to a seat on the _fauteuil_ beside her. Her plan for sitting like a sovereign was really quite wise for her. She is a trifle heavy, and her awkwardness has the finish that comes with a little Delsarte. Her method of sitting down always makes me think of a hotel bus backing to a carriage block. You never could appreciate the fun of this unless I gave you some of these details.” “You are living up to your notion of it as history.” “If you are not _very_ appreciative the historian—” “I am listening.” “Ed Tranton says that more of the men talked to the lively French widow than seemed to him to be exactly symmetrical, but Mrs. Brotcher did not appear to care so long as she had the count. When Ed Tranton got into the Brotcher group, Mrs. Brotcher was saying to the count with a flip of her fan—I can just _see_ it!—that she didn’t consider his behavior quite _propre_. The count roared and cast a longing glance toward the widow as if he couldn’t wait the chance to tell her. Poor Mrs. Brotcher meant _convenable_ or _comme il faut_, of course. I doubt whether she ever knew why the count seemed so much amused. To her the evening was a brilliant, an epoch-making occasion. During the following week she greatly elaborated her plan. Her sister-in-law says that she felt the need of having one or two stars every night, like the count, who had enthusiastically promised to come again on the following Saturday. Mrs. Brotcher had cried over Mme. Roland and made up her mind to keep out of politics, though I fancy she did not see any immediate danger in any politics that was at all possible to her _salon_. Her idea was to go in for as much literary effect as she could get with a sprinkling of counts, colonels, professors, and judges. Naturally things couldn’t be as picturesque as when women wore high-waisted gowns and men imitated Napoleon. It was too bad not to have an abbé. I’m sure she wanted an abbé, in a circle of _beaux esprits_. A _petit souper_ was planned for the second Saturday,—they had plain refreshments the first night. Well,