"He is better without one. Half the trouble in the world comes from wanting mates; the other half comes from not knowing that this is true. My good Coco is not so stupid"--and he reached up and stroked the bird's crest and neck. "All day long he ponders over what is going on down below him. And just think, monsieur, what _does_ go on down below him in the season! The wrong man and the wrong woman most of the time, and the pressure of the small foot under the table, and the little note slipped under the napkin. Ah!--they don't humbug Coco! He laughs all day to himself--and I laugh too. There is nothing, if you think about it, so comical as life. It is really a Punch-and-Judy show, with one doll whacking away at the other--'Now, will you be good!--Now, will you be good!'--and they are never good. No--no--never a mate for my Coco--never a mate for anybody if I can help it." "Would you have given the same advice thirty years ago to madame la marquise?" Madame was the one and only subject Lemois ever seemed to approach with any degree of hesitancy. My objective point was, of course, Mignon; but I had opened madame's gate, hoping for a short cut. "Ah!--madame is quite different," he replied with sudden gravity. "All the rules are broken in the case of a woman of fashion and of rank and of very great wealth. These people do not live for themselves--they are part of the State. But I will tell you one thing, Monsieur High-Muck, though you may not believe it, and that is that Madame la Marquise de la Caux was never so contented as she is at the present moment. She is free now to do as she pleases. Did you hear what Monsieur Le Blanc said last night about the way the work is being pressed? The old marquis would have been a year deciding on a plan; madame will have that villa on its legs and as good as new in a month. You know, of course, that she is coming down this afternoon?" I knew nothing of the kind, and told him so. "Yes; she sent me word last night by a mysterious messenger, who left the note and disappeared before I could see him--Leà brought it to me. You see, madame is most anxious about her flowers for next year, and this afternoon I am going with her to a nursery and to a great garden overlooking the market-place to help her pick them out." Here he caressed his pet again. "No, Monsieur Coco, you will not be allowed down here in the court where your pretty white feathers and your unblemished morals might be tarnished by the dreadful people all about. You shall go up on your perch; it is much better"--and with a deprecatory wave of his hand he strolled up the court-yard, Coco still nibbling his cheek with his horny black beak, the old man crooning a little love song as he walked. [Illustration: "Just think, monsieur, what does go on below Coco in the season"]