The two men ran after Vauvert, who was in the utmost perplexity, for he did not know how to request his friend Gripaille to cease to entertain the company. At last, a tall, stout young woman consented to sing; young Martin arrived to play the accompaniments, and they were escorted to the piano. Gripaille pretended not to see what was going on, and played the prelude to his sixth comic song; but the noise in the dressing room, where a party of young men had assembled who could not find room in the salon, forced the guitarist to abandon the contest; he rose very ill-humoredly, despite the faint forced applause, and for lack of something better to do sat down in front of the little old woman, who had been partly in a trance and partly in heaven throughout his singing. "Come," she said to Gripaille, as he approached, "come, let me embrace you! You have enchanted me--exalted me to the skies--that is the word! Come, I entreat you!" The wretched guitarist was compelled to submit; he embraced the old lady with a good grace; admirers are rare, and one has to pay dear for them. My neighbor spied me and came to me with outstretched hand; but he halted in front of my fair unknown, to whom he made a sweeping bow. The devil of a fellow seemed to know everybody. I listened to their conversation. "Whom do I see? Madame de Marsan! by what chance? Really, this is a happiness I did not expect! To what are we indebted for this pleasant surprise?" "Monsieur de Marsan meets Monsieur Vauvert sometimes at the department, and Monsieur Vauvert has been urging him for a long time to come to his concerts; so to-day we decided to come;--but I confess," she said, turning to me, "that I did not expect all that I see." "We will try, madame, to give you so much pleasure that you will not regret your evening." Thereupon my neighbor ran to the piano, doubtless to preëmpt the place next to the tall young lady. But the little chubby-faced man had anticipated him, and I foresaw that we could not escape the _Princesse de Navarre_. While the young woman was singing her air from _Montano et Stéphanie_, being forced to give up my chair to a damsel who was looking about in vain for a seat, I went for a breath of air to the dressing room, where a number of young men had taken refuge, driven from the salon by the shrill cries of the singer. At that moment the doorbell rang; Vauvert opened the door, and little Friquet appeared. I expected a scene between the uncle and the nephew, and I waited to hear. "Where have you been, you rascal?" demanded Vauvert, trying to assume an imposing air. "Why, uncle, I have been--I have been at the office." "At your office, until eleven o'clock at night!" "Yes, uncle." "You don't expect to make us believe that, I hope?" "Why not, uncle?" "Because I know that you leave it every night at nine o'clock." "The head clerk gave me some errands to do, uncle; that is what made me so late."