"Then I, absolutely breathless: 'Not so fast. I pray, not so fast; I shall fall. I assure you everything is going round, everything is going round. Let us stop.' 'No, no; don't let's stop. Keep on still. If we stop your mother will separate us, and I have still so many things to say to you--so many things, so many things. Swear to me that you will be my wife.' 'Yes, I swear it; but enough, enough--' I was smothering. He heard nothing. He was going, going like a madman. We had become a hurricane, a whirlwind, a cyclone. We caused surprise and fright. No one danced any more, but looked at us. And he held me so close, and his face was so near my face, his lips so near my lips, that all at once I felt myself giving way. I slipped, and let myself into his arms. A cloud passed before my eyes; I could not speak nor think; then blankness. Everything had disappeared before me in a vertigo not too disagreeable, I must say. I had fainted, absolutely fainted." "The next day our marriage was decided, perfectly decided. Our waltz had caused scandal. That was just what I wanted." "There, Aunt Louise, is the history of our marriage, and I want to-day to draw this conclusion: it is that I was the first to begin to love, and I shall have, consequently, one day, when it pleases me, the right to stop the first." "Ah, no, indeed; tell her, Aunt Louise, that she will never have that right--" A new quarrel threatened to break out. "This, my children," said the old aunt, "is all I have to say: she did, in truth, start the first to love; but it seems to me, Gontran, that you started all at once at such a great pace that you must have caught up with her." "Passed her, Aunt Louise." "Oh no!" exclaimed Marceline. "Oh yes--" "Oh no--" "Well," continued Aunt Louise, "try never to have any other quarrels than that one. Try to walk always in life step by step, side by side, and heart to heart. I have seen many inventions since I was born, and the world is no longer what it was then. But there is one thing to which inventions have made no difference, and never will. That thing you have; keep it. It is love! Love each other, children, as strongly and as long as possible." And Aunt Louise wept another tear, and smiled on looking at the portrait of the officer of the Royal Guard. THE DANCING-MASTER I was dining at the house of some friends, and in the course of the evening the hostess said to me: "Do you often go to the opera?" "Yes, very often." "And do you go behind the scenes?" "Yes, I go behind." "Then you can do me a favor. In the ballet department there's an old man called Morin, who is perfectly respectable, it seems. He is the little B----'s dancing-master. He gives excellent lessons. I should like to have him for my little girls, so ask him if he could come twice a week." I willingly undertook the delicate mission.