Denise was not mistaken: Virginie, to whose mind the pretty village maiden she had met at Auguste's apartment recurred now and again, had spoken of her to one of her friends. This friend was a tall brunette of some thirty years, with a fine figure, but with a bold expression that would have intimidated a dragoon. A dressmaker by trade, but passionately fond of the theatre, she neglected her thread and needle to enact tragic princesses and heroines of melodrama in private theatres. Despite her determined manner, sentiment was Mademoiselle Cézarine's weakness; she always had a passion on the carpet, and would have gone on the stage for good and all, had she been able to overcome an unfortunate lisp. For the rest, Mademoiselle Cézarine was a good-natured soul and incapable of trying to seduce a friend's lover. A fine winter's day suggested to Virginie the idea of a trip to Montfermeil. At the first mention of the country, Cézarine had exclaimed: "I'll go with you, my dear; I feel the need of dithtraction to-day. Théodore hath been playing trickth on me. Let'th go and thee your little peathant; we'll drink milk, and perhapth that will pathify my mind." "Let's go," Virginie assented; "I don't know the exact address, but I know it's Montfermeil, and my tongue ain't in my pocket." "Oh! we'll thoon find the plathe. Do you thuppothe that I, who could find Théodore in any corner in Parith, won't very thoon make a thorough thearch of a village?" "I'll introduce you as a relative of mine; for we must have some excuse." "Don't you be alarmed. Haven't I acted Themiramith? Don't I carry mythelf like a queen?" "I know you've played Semiramis, but there are times when no one would suspect it." "Let'th be off and take the thage." "All right. I'm sure that the little girl will be glad to see me. My dear, you are going to see a case of perfect innocence." "Tho much the better; I don't like anything but innothenthe, now I know that rathcal Théodore is falth to me." "Great heaven! are you going to talk about your Théodore all the way? that will be amusing!--By the way, there's one difficulty--I haven't a sou." "Oh! I've got enough for both. Wait till I count. I've got a hundred and fifteen thouth." "With that sum we can go to the Mississippi. Put on your Sunday hat and your home-raised cashmere; and off we go." Mademoiselle Cézarine put on her bird-of-paradise hat, which the sun had faded to a pale yellow, and the shawl, once of amaranthine hue, in which the flowers had become so blended with the background that it was difficult to distinguish them. But when one indulges frequently in grand passions, one sometimes makes sacrifices, and Mademoiselle Cézarine preferred one glance from the man of her choice to the diamonds of a Russian prince; therein she differed essentially from Mademoiselle Virginie.