The next morning I considered what I had to do; I had no time to lose. I dressed in haste, and as I closed my door I ran into Raymond, who was coming to pay me a visit, in his morning gown. "Going out already?" he said. "Yes, neighbor; I have a great deal to do to-day." "The devil! I wanted to talk with you." "You must wait until another time." "You didn't join me yesterday at the Café Turc; I waited in the garden till ten o'clock." "I am very sorry. Adieu!" "But I say, what about my picture? Has Agathe my picture?" I had ceased to listen, and was at the foot of the stairs. I scoured the neighborhood in search of a suitable room. I wanted one of which I could have immediate possession, and one that was not far from my own lodgings. I had not succeeded in finding what I desired,--they were all either too high up, or too dark, or too dirty,--and I was walking along with my nose in the air, looking for signs, when, as I paused in front of a porte cochère, I heard a faint cough near me. It seemed to me to be a simulated cough; I turned, and saw Nicette. I was within two yards of her stand and had no idea of it. Nicette looked at me, then lowered her eyes; she dared not bow to me or speak to me by daylight. Poor child! At that moment I remembered her bouquet, which I had entirely forgotten; I had never thanked her for her thoughtfulness. I walked up to her, and, as I selected a few flowers, told her in an undertone how deeply touched I was by her remembrance. She blushed with pleasure, and I walked away followed by her eyes. At last I found what I wanted, on Rue Caumartin; two small rooms which were very neat and clean, very light, and could be occupied at once. It only remained to furnish them; and with plenty of money nothing is so easy. I hastened to an upholsterer's, bought all that I required, and had it sent to the house with me. In less than three hours the little suite was completely furnished. At first I intended to supply only what was strictly necessary, but my self-esteem interfered; I determined to give Caroline a pleasant surprise; she must have an easy-chair for resting, and a sofa for us two. A pretty woman must have plenty of mirrors; but, above all else, she must have a dressing table and a comfortable bed. She must have curtains to shield her from the gaze of her neighbors; and they must be lined, to lessen the glare of the sun; lastly, she must have a little clock, so that we should not forget the time while talking of love, and I did not expect to talk of anything else to Caroline. All these little details carried me much further than I had at first proposed; but I would try to economize in some other direction, and those were extraordinary expenses and of infrequent occurrence.