come," I

hoped that Juliette would be in shortly. Oh, how many times I had rolled on the sofa, crying : " She won't come ! " And Juliette always came. Always at the moment when I most despaired, I heard a carriage stop, then steps on the stairway, a creaking noise in the hallway, and Juliette would appear smiling, adorned with plumes, filling the room with a strong odor of perfume and the rustling of silk in motion.

" Come on, get your hat, my dear."

Irritated by her smile, by her dress, by the perfume, exasperated by the long waiting, I used to upbraid her severely:

"Where have you been? In what joints have you been? Yes, tell me, in what joints?"

" Ah ! You are trying to make a scene. Well, thanks ! I am leaving. Good night ! And here I have taken all the pains in the world to snatch a moment to look you up. "

Then pointing my finger to the door, my muscles contracted, I would burst out:

" Well, go ahead ! Go to the devil ! And never come back again, never ! "

With the door scarcely shut behind Juliette, I would run after her.

" Juliette ! Come back, please ! Juliette ! Wait. . . . I am going with you."

She would still be descending the stairs, without turning her head. I would catch up with her.

Near her, near this dress, these plumes, these flowers, these jewels, fury would again seize me:

" Come right up with me or I'll crack your head against these steps ! "

And when in the room I would throw myself at her feet.

" Ah, my little Juliette, I am wrong, I know I am wrong. But I suffer so much! Have pity on