At this name Yvette awoke: "My poor Muscade, can you think of such a thing? Why, the Prince has the air of a Russian in a wax-figure museum, who has won medals in a hairdressing competition." "Good! We'll drop the Prince. But you have noticed the Viscount Pierre de Belvigne?" This time she began to laugh, and asked: "Can you imagine me hanging to the neck of 'Raisine'?" She nicknamed him according to the day, Raisine, Malvoisie, [Footnote: Preserved grapes and pears, malmsey,--a poor wine.] Argenteuil, for she gave everybody nicknames. And she would murmur to his face: "My dear little Pierre," or "My divine Pedro, darling Pierrot, give your bow-wow's head to your dear little girl, who wants to kiss it." "Scratch out number two. There still remains the Chevalier Valreali whom the Marquise seems to favor," continued Servigny. Yvette regained all her gaiety: "'Teardrop'? Why he weeps like a Magdalene. He goes to all the first-class funerals. I imagine myself dead every time he looks at me." "That settles the third. So the lightning will strike Baron Saval, here." "Monsieur the Colossus of Rhodes, Junior? No. He is too strong. It would seem to me as if I were in love with the triumphal arch of L'Etoile." "Then Mam'zelle, it is beyond doubt that you are in love with me, for I am the only one of your adorers of whom we have not yet spoken. I left myself for the last through modesty and through discretion. It remains for me to thank you." She replied with happy grace: "In love with you, Muscade? Ah! no. I like you, but I don't love you. Wait--I--I don't want to discourage you. I don't love you--yet. You have a chance--perhaps. Persevere, Muscade, be devoted, ardent, submissive, full of little attentions and considerations, docile to my slightest caprices, ready for anything to please me, and we shall see--later." "But, Mam'zelle, I would rather furnish all you demand afterward than beforehand, if it be the same to you." She asked with an artless air: "After what, Muscade?" "After you have shown me that you love me, by Jove!" "Well, act as if I loved you, and believe it, if you wish." "But you--" "Be quiet, Muscade; enough on the subject." The sun had sunk behind the island, but the whole sky still flamed like a fire, and the peaceful water of the river seemed changed to blood. The reflections from the horizon reddened houses, objects, and persons. The scarlet rose in the Marquise's hair had the appearance of a splash of purple fallen from the clouds upon her head. As Yvette looked on from her end, the Marquise rested, as if by carelessness, her bare hand upon Saval's hand; but the young girl made a motion and the Marquise withdrew her hand with a quick gesture, pretending to readjust something in the folds of her corsage. Servigny, who was looking at them, said: "If you like, Mam'zelle, we will take a walk on the island after dinner." "Oh, yes! That will be delightful. We will go all alone, won't we, Muscade?"