"Stop a moment, Mr. Spendthrift. I warn you that I shall keep house. In summer, we can dine very well--yes, very well--for three francs, at the Chartreuse or at the Montmartre Hermitage, half a dozen country dances, or valses included, with a ride upon the wooden horses:--oh, I do so love riding on horseback! That will makeup your five francs--not a farthing more, I assure you. Do you valse?" "Very well." "Oh, this pleases me! M. Cabrion always trod on my feet, and then for fun he would throw fulminating balls on the ground, which was the reason they would not let him go any more to the Chartreuse." "Be assured, I will answer for my discretion wherever we go together; and as to the fulminating balls, I will have nothing to do with them. But in winter, what shall we do?" "In winter, we are less hungry, and can dine luxuriously for forty sous; then we shall have three francs left for the play, for I would not have you exceed a hundred sous-- that is indeed too much to spend in pleasure; but if alone, you would spend much more at the wine-shop or the billiard-rooms, with low fellows, who smell horribly of tobacco. Is it not better to pass the day pleasantly with a young friend, very laughter-loving and discreet, who will save you some expense, by hemming your cravats, and taking care of your other little domestic affairs?" "It is clearly a gaining for me, neighbor; only if my friends should meet me with my pretty little friend on my arm, what then?" "Well, they will look at us and say: 'He is not at all unlucky, that rogue Rudolph!'" "You know my name?" "Why, to be sure I do. When I learned that the next room was let, I asked to whom!" "Yes, when people meet us together, no doubt, as you say, they will remark: 'What a lucky fellow that Rudolph is!' and will envy me." "So much the better." "They will think me perfectly happy." "Of course they will; and so much the better!" "And if I should not be so happy as I seem?" "What does that matter, provided they believe it; men require nothing further than mere outward show." "But your reputation?" Miss Dimpleton burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. "The reputation of a grisette! Would any one believe in such a phenomenon?" answered she. "If I had father or mother, brother or sister, for them I should be careful of what people would say: but I am alone in the world, and it's my own look out. As long as I am satisfied with myself, I don't care a snap for others!" "But still I should be very uncomfortable." "What for?" "In being thought happy in having you for a companion, while, on the contrary, I love you. It would be something like taking dinner with Papa Cretu--eating dry bread, whilst a cookery book was being read to me."