Daréna scrutinized the Alsatian anew, then said to Poterne under his breath: “She’s very pretty, and as fresh as a rose. She looks respectable; in fact, she has rather a stupid air; but that will pass for innocence. Do you know, you have made a genuine find; when she is handsomely dressed, Chérubin cannot possibly help falling in love with her.--Ah! here’s the punch--let’s have a drink! Drink, young Chichette. Alsatians generally have a well-developed gullet.” Mademoiselle Chichette smiled and took a glass, saying: “Oh, yes! I don’t object.” “The accent is a little pronounced,” muttered Daréna. “However, it doesn’t matter, it’s Polish--that’s understood.--Some macaroons, waiter! What! you see that we have a lady with us, and you forget the macaroons! Haven’t you any? If not, you should make some.” “I have sent for some, monsieur.” “That’s lucky for you. Meanwhile, give us some cakes, or gingersnaps--whatever you have.” During this dialogue Poterne heaved a succession of stifled sighs. At last a dish was brought and placed by Daréna in front of the young work-girl, and he himself stuffed himself with cakes as if he had not dined. Whereupon Monsieur Poterne also decided to attack the plate, and to devour all the gingersnaps. “You see, Comte de Globeski,” said Daréna, in a serio-comic tone, “that I did well to order these trifles. But now let us talk business, and come to the point.--Mademoiselle Chichette, you have one of the prettiest faces to be met with in Paris or the suburbs. We desire a young man to fall violently in love with you. That will be easy to bring about; but we wish his passion to encounter obstacles. Why? That does not concern you; the essential thing is that you should do exactly what you are told to do. In the first place, you are Monsieur le Comte de Globeski’s wife--consequently you are the Comtesse de Globeska. That is the usual custom in Poland: the man’s name ends in _i_ and his wife’s in _a_.” “Oh, no! I want to be my little pays’s wife! I’ve promised him.” “Sacrebleu! this is only a joke; it’s part of the comedy we want you to play.” “Oh, yes, yes! a joke! I’ll do it.” “You are the Comtesse de Globeska, then, a Polish refugee; and your friend here--this gentleman who is so ugly--is horribly jealous; stuff all that in your head. We will give you a pretty costume; that can’t offend you; and you will live with monsieur for a few days, except at night; but with honorable intentions!” “Oh, yes, yes!” “And when the young man is dead in love, you may love him too, if you please; in fact, he is well worth the trouble--he’s a charming fellow. You don’t dislike charming fellows, do you?” “Oh, yes, yes!” “And for all this you shall have twenty-five napoleons; in other words, five hundred francs.” “That’s too much! it’s too much!” whispered Poterne, nudging Daréna, “she would have helped us for two or three louis.”