Still, Madame Vauvert's parties were very entertaining, because there was not the slightest restraint, everyone did what he chose, and one was certain of meeting a lot of original people and of seeing some new faces at every party. Most of those who appeared there simply passed on and off, as in a magic lantern; those whose only aim was to be amused went again and again. I was one of the latter; so Vauvert had come to call me his dear friend, while his charming spouse always greeted me with a most gracious little smile. As Monsieur Vauvert was only a government clerk, he did not live on the first floor; but on his reception evenings he caused candle ends to be placed along the staircase, so that the artists and amateurs might not break their noses before reaching the third floor above the entresol. He had no servant, but he had a nephew some fourteen or fifteen years old, who was junior clerk to a notary; a sly, mischievous youngster, whom his dear uncle tried to make useful on his festal days, which displeased the young man, who on those occasions always returned home later than usual from the notary's, in order not to be at the service of his uncle and aunt. It was nearly ten o'clock when I arrived at Monsieur Vauvert's; the company rarely assembled before that hour, for the petty bourgeois try to mimic the nobility, and think it good form to arrive very late at a party. Musicians, whether amateurs or professionals, love to keep people waiting; and I believe that, in due time, evening parties will not begin until the next morning. I rang. The door was opened by Madame Vauvert; whence I concluded that the young nephew had not yet returned. "Ah! here you are, my little Dorsan; it's very good of you to come; we shall have a lot of people to-night." "You _will_ have? Do you mean to say that your guests haven't arrived yet?" "Some of them are late; but it's early yet." "Not very." "We have a tall young lady from the Conservatoire, who has a magnificent voice." "The deuce!" "And a lady who plays the 'cello." "Great heaven! why, here it's as it is at Nicolet's: always worse and worse!" "Ha! ha! what a funny fellow!" "What music have you had already?" "Nothing yet." "What! nothing? and it's ten o'clock! For whom are you waiting to begin your concert?" "Little Martin hasn't come yet, to play the piano accompaniments." "Isn't his sister here?" "Yes, but she won't play to-night; she's sick; she's having one of her nervous attacks." "Ah, yes! that's quite natural. But where's your husband?" "He's gone out to get a 'cello part and to borrow a second violin, so that we can have a quartette." "It seems to me that it would have been well to set about it a little sooner."