"It's--it's--too stupid. It's this thing of Chopin's, for his funeral, you know--his funeral mass, that he composed. Papa always tells me not to play it. As there was no one in the house to-day--I thought you were at the bottom of the garden--oh, I knew very well what would happen, but I wanted to make myself cry with it, and you see it has answered to my heart's content. Isn't it silly of me--and for me, too, when I'm naturally so fond of fun!" "Don't you feel well, Renee? Come, tell me; there's something the matter. You wouldn't cry like that." "No, there's nothing the matter, I assure you. I'm as strong as a horse; there's nothing at all the matter, really and truly. If there were anything I should tell you, shouldn't I? It all came about through that dreadful, stupid music. And to-day, too--to-day, when papa has promised to take me to see _The Straw Hat_." A faint smile lighted up her wet eyes as she spoke, and she continued in the same strain: "Only fancy, _The Straw Hat_--at the Palais Royal. It will be fun, I'm sure; I only like pieces of that kind. As for the others, dramas and sentimental things--well, I think we have enough to stir us up with our own affairs; it isn't worth while going in search of trouble. Then, too, crying with other people; why, it's like weeping into some one else's handkerchief. We are going to take you with us, you know--a regular bachelor's outing it's to be. Papa said we should dine at a restaurant; and I promise you that I'll be as nonsensical, and laugh as I used to when I was a little girl--when I had my English governess--you remember her? She used to wear orange-coloured ribbons, and drink eau de Cologne that she kept in a cupboard until it got in her head. She was a nice old thing." And as she uttered these words her fingers flew over the keyboard, and she attacked an arrangement with variations of the _Carnival of Venice_. "You've been to Venice, haven't you?" she said suddenly, stopping short. "Yes." "Isn't it odd that there should be a spot like that on earth, that I don't know and yet that attracts me and makes me dream of it? For some people it's one place, and for others it's another. Now, I've never wanted to see any place except Venice. I'm going to say something silly--Venice seems to me like a city where all the musicians should be buried." She put her fingers on the notes again, but she only skimmed over them without striking them at all, as if she were just caressing the silence of the piano. Her hands then fell on her knees again, and in a pensive manner, giving way to her thoughts, she half turned her head towards Denoisel.