"Yes, with her father."

"She must have been pleased! The drawing was so pretty. Plumet, who is
not much of a talker, is never tired of praising it. I tell you, he and
I did not spare ourselves. He made a bit of a fuss before he would take
the order; he was in a hurry--such a hurry; but when he saw that I was
bent on it he gave in. And it is not the first time he has given in.
Plumet is a good soul, Monsieur Mouillard. When you know him better you
will see what a good soul he is. Well, while he was cutting out the
frame, I went to the porter's wife. What a business it was! I am glad
my errand was successful!"

"It was too good of you, Madame Plumet; but it was useless, alas! she is
to marry another."

"Marry another? Impossible!"

I thought Madame Plumet was about to faint. Had she heard that her son
Pierre had the croup, she could not have been more upset. Her bosom
heaved, she clasped her hands, and gazed at me with sorrowful compassion.

"Poor Monsieur Mouillard!"

And two tears, two real tears, coursed down Madame Plumet's cheeks.
I should have liked to catch them. They were the only tears that had
been shed for me by a living soul since my mother died.

I had to tell her all, every word, down to my rival's name. When she
heard that it was Baron Dufilleul, her indignation knew no bounds. She