It was almost exactly seven-thirty when he saw her coming across the Place. At first he did not recognize her, for he had been expecting that white suit topped by its cunning tam-o-’shanter; but she was not in white this evening. Her dress was of some light summer material and she wore a dark tam. He never saw her wear anything but a tam.... She looked more slender, younger, than before. Why, she seemed to be nothing but a child! He knew she saw him, but she did not seem to see him, for she came forward sedately, with those staid little steps of hers until she was almost at arm’s-length. Then she looked up and smiled. Again he found that difficulty in opening the conversation, in organizing his French for action, and she—she seemed to have forgotten her English. But each was glad to see the other. He tried to tell her he was glad to see her, but made frightful work of his attempt to pronounce the word _joyeux_. It necessitated resort to the dictionary—and immediately awkwardness was dispelled. “I have worked so—_so_—hard. All the day.” “At what?” She held out her book. It was a volume of Racine. “I have been studying.” She opened it to show him. “Regard this so long part. It is necessary for me to learn it. You do not know Racine.... You do not know this play. Oh, it is very sad, very _tragique_. But it is very beautiful....” “What are you learning all that for?” “I must.... I must learn many things. It is for the examination. I must to enter into the _Académie_. First I must pass the examination. If I can succeed to enter into the _Académie_, then I shall some day go onto the stage of the Comédie Française and be a great actress and make much money, and you shall sit and clap your hands. I shall then come to New York like Madame Bernhardt, for there is much money, and you shall be proud I am your friend. _N’est-ce pas?_ But it is very _difficile_ to enter the _Académie_. One must know a famous actor or musician to recommend one.... Do you know actors and musicians in Paris?” “No.” “You must to meet these actor, then, and know him well, so you will say to him, ‘Recommend my friend to the _Académie_.’ It is very necessary.” She looked up at him and smiled gaily at her little joke, which was uttered half in seriousness. “So you’re an actress, are you?” An actress! It rather startled him. He had ideas about actresses—American actresses! But a French actress!... “_Non.... Non.... Non...._ I am nothing. I am a young girl only, me. But I must do something. I have to live, is it not? Yes.... Then to be the actress in the Comédie Française is to be well.” He was rather relieved. There is a difference between being an actress and desiring to be one. He had an inspiration. “Maybe you would like to go to the Comédie Française to-night,” he said. She clapped her hands. “But yes—yes. Let us hurry. It is already late and we shall miss something.”