"I say, my dear Albert," said Tobie, after trying, but in vain, to fix his little glass in his right eye, "are you in love with this Madame Baldimer, that you seem inclined to follow her carriage?" "I, in love with her? upon my word! Do you suppose that I am idiotic enough to fall in love with a woman again? I love them when they are pretty; but it lasts just so long as is necessary to triumph over them; that is quite enough. Mon Dieu! that is the best way to succeed with women. But if you really love them, you become melancholy, jealous, a bore to your friends; and your fair one no longer listens to you, and, what is worse, deceives you. Madame Baldimer is very beautiful; I have been attentive to her, as to many others." "Yes," rejoined Tobie, sucking the gold head of his cane; "that is our business, to pay court to the ladies. Ah! if I should write my adventures--I had an idea of doing it once; but it would have taken too long; I hadn't the time, and the current forced me along." "Did Madame Baldimer listen to you favorably?" asked Célestin, with a satirical glance at his friend. "Why, not less so than to others. I have already told you that she plays the coquette with everybody and listens to no one." "I should say that the gentleman who was with her in the _citadine_ just now might think differently." Albert frowned and tapped his boot with his switch, as he replied: "You say that there was a man with her; I saw no one." "Because your sight is not good, apparently." "Ah! there's Désilly, the illustrious Désilly." Two young men who were just passing our three idlers stopped in front of them. One of the two, who wore a broad-brimmed hat with a pointed crown, and had a beard a sapper might have envied, shook hands with Albert and Célestin in turn, saying: "How are you, boys! we are out for a stroll. I tell you, this is something like! Who will give me a cigar? I've just finished mine." Albert took from his pocket a dainty cigar case of Italian straw, and offered it to the two new-comers, each of whom took a cigar and lighted it from Albert's and Célestin's; meanwhile, Tobie whispered in Albert's ear: "Is that the artist Désilly, who draws such amusing, clever caricatures in the paper?" "Himself." "Désilly," said Célestin, "you promised to show me the collection of your latest caricatures, which I want to send to Bordeaux. When would you like me to come?" "My boys, don't ask me anything at this moment; I have a love affair on hand, and it is impossible for me to think of anything else. It may last a week, perhaps two, but it surely won't go over a month; then I shall be at your service. Adieu!" And the artist went off with his friend. "He has a love affair on hand," said Monsieur Tobie; "and it seems to engage his attention to the exclusion of everything else."