I readily guessed the author of that piece of deviltry. Agathe and her shopmates were standing in the doorway, laughing till they cried to see the crowd in front of the silhouette and to hear the various remarks. I was moved to pity for poor Raymond; if I had dared, I would have removed his unlucky face, thus exposed to the laughter of the passers-by. To be sure, it was hardly possible to recognize it in that black profile; but my neighbor had a very peculiar cast of countenance; and the artist, unluckily for Raymond, had caught his likeness perfectly; indeed, he had had abundant time to practise, as Raymond had passed the whole evening in his booth. Among the spectators I noticed little Friquet, whom one could always be sure of finding in front of posters, caricature shops, cake sellers, street singers, and all sorts of open-air shows. The little fellow had recognized Raymond; he was holding his sides with laughter, and crying: "I say! I know him! It's Monsieur Raymond; he comes to my aunt's house to sing! Oh! it's he, sure enough! What a shame to paste him up there!" And although he characterized it as a shame, the rascal kept repeating: "I know him: it's Monsieur Raymond, who comes to my aunt's." I was about to walk away, when I turned and saw Raymond parading in front of Agathe's shop, playing the dandy and ogling her with significant glances, to which she replied only with roars of laughter. The poor devil was walking toward his portrait; if Friquet saw him, he was lost; the little clerk would not fail to make him known to the crowd. I determined to try to save him from that humiliation. I hastened toward him, took his arm, and tried to lead him away with me. "Come, my dear Raymond, come; let's take coffee together." "I can't do it, my friend; I am here for a purpose, you see. I am watching Agathe; I want to speak to her." "You can speak to her later; come on with me." "No; this seems to me a favorable moment; she doesn't take her eyes off me." The little traitress was, in truth, making the most ridiculous faces at him, for fear he would go away. Monsieur Raymond, who had never known her to look at him like that, and who saw that all the shopgirls had their eyes on him, was beside himself with delight; he swaggered along, leaning on his cane; to no purpose did I pull him by the arm, it was impossible to induce him to lose sight of the milliner's shop. But he noticed the crowd assembled a few steps away. "There's something over yonder; let's see what it is." "Pshaw! it isn't worth while; an offer of a reward for a lost dog, or an advertisement of some new oil to prevent the hair from falling out or turning white."