Mademoiselle Zizi sang the ballad. At the first _bon bon!_ Saint-Arthur spilt his wine on the floor; at the second he struck his nose with his glass; and at the third he swallowed the wrong way and strangled; they were obliged to pound him on the back and make him look at the ceiling, in order to bring him to life. "My dear boy, I think that you have done enough for to-day," said Zizi; "you are not adroit to-night, and I don't want you to learn any more ways.--Great heaven! it's nine o'clock! I must go and dress--I wear a costume that it takes a long while to put on.--I say, I'm a little dizzy; but no matter! it will pass off on the stage.--Adieu, monsieur; I hope to see you again." "Are you going away alone?" "I have only to cross the boulevard. Alfred, you will come to my dressing-room for me at half-past eleven, not a minute earlier; I forbid you." "Yes, dear angel.--Isn't she enchanting, neighbor, with that little demoniacal expression?" "And he'd like me not to love anybody but him, the idiot!" whispered Zizi in Roncherolle's ear; "can you imagine such conceit?" "That certainly would be a great pity." Mademoiselle Zizi disappeared. Alfred paid the waiter, doing his utmost to stand erect on his legs. Roncherolle took his arm, to help him to go downstairs, and before leaving him on the boulevard, said: "Do me the favor to give me the address of the lady whom you took home--the Baronne de Grangeville." "Ah! the Baronne de--you want to know her address? Villain! monster! you have criminal designs!" "Perhaps so--but her address." "Wait--I know it perfectly." "Well then, where is it?" "Ah!--Rue de--what do you call it--you know it well enough!" "If you should tell me the name, I should know it better." "Rue--parbleu! Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges; number 21 or 24--it's in the twenties." "Infinitely obliged." "Au revoir, my dear friend! I'm going to the Cafe Turc for a game of billiards; I feel in condition to make fifteen cannons in succession." "Much pleasure to you." And Roncherolle walked away, saying: "I know her address at last! To-morrow I will carry her a bouquet myself." XXXI THE EFFECTS OF TIME But our plans are traced on sand; and then too, sad as it is to admit it, champagne is not really good for the gout. On the day following that dinner party, during which Roncherolle had given instruction in such pleasant matters, instead of going as he hoped to pay a visit to the Baronne de Grangeville, he was obliged to keep his bed; his gout had returned, more obstinate and more painful than ever; the poor invalid lost his temper, complained, swore like one possessed, because it seemed to him that that relieved him; and finally he said to himself: "I won't give any more lessons in drinking champagne."