"'Do you think it good?'

"'Very.'

"'How do you like the frame?'

"'It's very pretty.'

"'Then I make you a present of it, Mademoiselle.'

"'Why! wasn't it intended for me?'

"'I mean--well! to tell the truth, it wasn't; it's a wedding
present, a souvenir--there's nothing extraordinary in that, is
there?'

"'Nothing whatever. You can tell me whom it's for, I suppose?'

"'Don't you think that you are pushing your curiosity too far?'

"'Well, really!'

"'Yes, I mean it.'

"'Since you make such a secret of it, I shall ask Monsieur Plumet to
tell me. Monsieur Plumet, for whom is this portrait?'

"Plumet, pale as death, fumbled at his workman's cap, like a naughty
child.