the further he drew back his plate and his bread: so much so, that at last the old lady addressed him:

"Sir, you are too polite-do not inconvenience yourself so much for us-we shall have plenty of room!-pray sir, do not inconvenience yourself!"

"Not at all, ladies-it is on the contrary a pleasure-I am but too happy-advance your spoon a little-you have no breadwaiter, some bread for these ladies.

"Really, sir, my niece and I are extremely happy to find ourselves in the society of so polite a gentlemen-we are not accustomed to dine in public-and to day we are giving ourselves a little treat. I was afraid at first that it would not be proper for two women to go alone into a public dining room; but I was assured that at Paris it is not of the least consequence, and we have therefore ventured."

"You were told the truth, madame; at Paris you may do just as you please; there are so many people in Paris, that none ever Occupy themselves with the affairs of others. You have not habitually lived in the metropolis I should imagine, madame?"

No, sir, I have come to settle here for the sake of my niece, who is going to be established in Paris. To-day, we formed the project of going to the play in this neighbourhood, which will be my first visit to a theatre in Paris: for fear of not arriving soon enough, we thought it better to dine near the theatre, as I understand it is very difficult to get a good place; the papers inform us that the theatre here is always crowded."

Madame, if you were more accustomed to Paris, you would find that no trust is to be placed in the newspapers; in politics as in literature, they extol their party, or their coterie!-By force of lying they have done themselves great injury. As for me, I will be answerable that you shall have plenty of time for dinner, and that you shall easily find places at the theatre in this neighbourhood, notwithstanding the assertion of the papers that the house is crowded every night."

The lady inclined her head, and as the waiter brought what she had ordered, she commenced dining with her niece, and her conversation with Girardière was momentarily interrupted. But the latter, who had already concluded his repast, resolved on ordering something else, having no desire at present to take his leave; besides, while eating, he could listen to and observe his neighbours.

"Waiter!-waiter!-you are never here!-Waiter!" cried the father of the family, striking his knife against a decanter. The waiter arrived at last, and demanded what he wanted.

Waiter, is the salmon quite fresh?"

"Yes, sir.'

"You can recommend it?"

Yes, sir, I can warrant it to be quite fresh."

The gentleman looked at his wife, then at the carte, and replied, after contracting his eye-brows:

"Well, then, bring me a fried whiting. Fanfan, have you nearly done fidgetting about in your chair?—he cannot keep quiet for two minutes, this little fellow !-he is really insupportable." "Papa!-the omelette soufflée!"-said the little boy in a plaintive tone.

"Silence, sir!-Look at your sister, how well she conducts herself; she does not stir. My darling, do you like dining at a restaurateur?"

"I don't know, papa."

"There's a good child! you know how to behave yourself— you answer very properly."

The lady and her niece dined, and conversed in a low tone; young person, who appeared timid and embarrassed, dared not turn her head round while she was eating, and contented herself with regarding her plate.

Girardière, without appearing to do so, studiously observed his neighbours; he wished to renew the conversation, but fearing to be indiscreet, he waited for the first favourable opportunity.

However, the aunt ordered some larks, and while they were eating them, the young person remarked with a gentle sigh"Ah! if Monsieur Frontin were here!-he is so fond of larks! -how he would regale himself!"

The aunt contented herself with replying, "Ah!-he would indeed."

Girardière began to form conjectures, the result of which was, "It appears Monsieur Frontin is a friend of these ladies, and passionately fond of larks."

"Here is the whiting you asked for!" said the waiter, placing a dish before the father of the family.

"It is very small ""

"Small, sir! why you only ordered one!"

"Most undoubtedly; but for one, we ought to have a fine whiting! at any rate you charge a franc and a half for it-the devil! everything is very dear here!"

Nevertheless the gentleman served his family with the whiting. He gave the head to his wife, the tail to his daughter, the middle bone to his son, and the rest he reserved for himself.

This distribution was by no means satisfactory to the little boy, who twisted about on his seat with renewed energy, and ventured to say,

"I'm so hungry! and I've got nothing but bones to suck!"

The young urchin's reflections continuing to be troublesome, papa saluted his fingers with the handle of a knife. A loud explosion of crying and bellowing ensued. The papa rose up with the intention of turning his son out of the room. The little boy, thinking his father was going to beat him, glided off from his

chair under the table, dragging after him the unfortunate round cushion. The cushion rolled under a neighbouring table, where a gentleman, in stooping to pick it up, perceived his wife's foot infinitely too close to that of a young gentleman seated by her side. The husband rose up angrily, and addressed some severe expressions to his wife. The latter, in dismay, formed the resolution of becoming suddenly indisposed. Many persons rushed to give her assistance, and help to carry her out of the room: it was almost a universal commotion. The jealous husband insulted the young man the latter retorted with warmth; they left the room together, and a duel ensued the next day-and all this because the father of a family had only given his son the middle bone of a whiting.

At last a calm was re-established in the room, where Girardière and his two neighbours had alone remained peaceable in their places. From time to time the young person observed to her aunt,

"That is, if we get places at the theatre, aunt."

My dear Augustine, did you not hear what this gentleman said that we had plenty of time to dine at our ease.

"And I have the honour to re-assure you," replied Girardière; "besides, as I am myself going to the theatre, with your permission, ladies, I will do myself the honour to accompany you, and you may rely on being perfectly well placed."

"Indeed, sir, you are too good," said the aunt; "we will accept your offer with gratitude: my niece goes so seldom to the play, that she would be distressed, dear child, if she could not see well!"

'It is very natural; but the young lady may trust to me. I should be equally distressed if she were not well placed.”

The young person smiled her thanks to Girardière in a manner altogether amiable. The latter was enchanted at having conceived the idea of accompanying his neighbours to the theatre, for the more he regarded Mademoiselle Augustine, the more he felt disposed to fall in love with her; indeed it was already an affair completed: for the time devoted to eating a fricandeau and some larks, was more than sufficient for Girardière to become inflamed.

Mademoiselle Augustine was young and pretty, with rather an air of simplicity, perhaps even of awkwardness; but to the eyes of the celibataire, this was rather a quality than a defect.

"This young girl," thought he, " has come from the country with her aunt under the idea of establishing herself; I am not aware in what calling, but that matters little. She has not yet acquired the frivolous tastes and coquettish manners of the young ladies of Paris. Now, if she were to marry a prudent and steady man-like myself, for instance-it is probable she might be made a good housekeeper. I must try and get more intimate with

these ladies; after all, what do I risk? if they refuse me, it will only add one more to the list, that is all; but if I should succeed! --she regards me in a very amiable manner, and I cannot help thinking that I shall gain her consent."

"Waiter!—waiter!—an omelette soufflée!" cried the family gentleman, raising his voice in a manner so as to be heard all over the salon.

At these words, the little boy, transported with joy, resumed his contortions on the round cushion, which had been picked up and replaced under him. His mamma, who feared some fresh disturbance, hastened to hold him still on his seat: and his papa addressed him:

"If you do not keep quiet, Fanfan, you shall not have any.➡ -Waiter!-some toothpicks."

Girardière ordered some dessert; and amused himself with cracking filberts, in order to make his dinner last as long as that of his opposite neighbours. The aunt was a slow eater, and did not second the impatience of her niece. Mademoiselle Augustine from time to time turned her eyes towards a pendulum, placed in the salon, and heaved a gentle sigh, to which Girardière responded by another, which no one remarked, though he prolonged it for a considerable time.

The omelette soufflée was at last brought. Fanfan uttered a cry of admiration, the little girl remained fixed with her mouth open, and the papa and mamma regarded each other with mutual satisfaction; it was a general happiness. Some people require but little to make them happy; while others can never be so, from the simple reason that they possess too much. These apparent paradoxes bring things to a just equilibrium.

But while the father of the family and his children were in extacy, the object of their admiration diminished before their eyes: yet a few moments, and, of this hillock, rounded with such grace, and swelled out like a balloon, nothing would remain but a thin flat paste.

After the family had quickly despatched the omelette soufflée, the gentleman demanded his bill; which being soon made out, the waiter placed before him. Madame leaned towards her spouse to glance at the amount and her husband exclaimed:

"This is a murderous expence !-horribly dear!-we can never have spent all this ""

'My love, it is very easy to see if it is right-you have only to compare the charges with those in the carte; you are such an excellent calculator !"

"You are right, my sweet."

And the married couple re-examined the bill of fare, compared the charges, and cast up the amount;-at last the gentleman exclaimed, striking the table with his fist:

"Waiter!-here is a mistake of five sous!"" "Indeed, sir!-do you find an error?"

"You have charged bread for four, and my wife has not eaten hers: ah! diable !-you should pay attention to these things!-Stop, here is the bill-there are three sous for yourself." And the respectable family who had been served with cushions, parcels, and foot stoves, departed after having taken care to carry off all the tooth-picks that were placed on the table.

The old lady and her niece had also completed their dinner; they paid, Girardière followed their example, and they left the restaurateur together.

Girardère like a gallant cavalier, ran to secure places at the box-office, and accompanied the ladies into the first gallery, which was three-parts empty, though the newspapers had informed them that people were turned from the doors nightly: at last the aunt and her niece were placed in the first row, and Girardière seated himself behind them, in order to converse with the greater facility; for he had calculated everything, and in the course of the play he hoped to increase his intimacy, and obtain further information.

The aunt began by reimbursing Girardière for the expence of their places, which the latter did not think proper to refuse, not being sufficiently intimate with the ladies to justify his offering them the amusement of the evening at his own cost. He attempted to enter into conversation, but the piece having commenced, both aunt and niece were deaf to every thing but what was passing on the stage.

While the ladies were all eyes-all ears-Girardière continued his observations, feeling more and more satisfied at having encountered them. The aunt seemed to be a respectable woman, of good morals, and severe probity. Girardière divined all this from her bonnet, her gown, and her reticule. We all have our peculiar mode of judging in the world:-some, and by far the greatest number, judge of every thing by the expression of the physiognomy; others found their opinion on the voice, the signature, the manners, the hand of an individual. Girardière formed his estimate of women from their gowns and bonnets.

During the entre acte our marrying man learned more. The aunt's name was Gerbois; she was a widow with a trifling independence; the niece was to be her heiress, but in the meantime was possessed of nothing; it was necessary therefore, for her to work, in order to amass a small dower, and save a sufficient sum to be married with, for now-a-days an honest young woman rarely succeeds in establishing herself, if she bring nothing to her husband; and as Mademoiselle Augustine was perfection at her needle, she had come to Paris to acquire the profession of a mantua-maker, that she might soon be in a position to earn her own livelihood, and so be enabled to settle herself comfortably. Girardière found all this exceedingly satisfactory: he approved