The wish to laugh leaves me suddenly, and instead, a profound chill seizes my heart.

What! share even an hour of my life with that little doll?
Never! The next question is, how to get rid of her.
She advances smiling, with an air of repressed triumph, and behind her looms M.Kangourou, in his suit of gray tweed.

Fresh salutes, and behold her on all fours, she too, before my landlady and before my neighbors.
Yves, the big Yves, who is not about to be married, stands behind me, with a comical grimace, hardly repressing his laughter--while to give myself time to collect my ideas, I offer tea in little cups, little spittoons, and embers to the company.
Nevertheless, my discomfited air does not escape my visitors.

M.
Kangourou anxiously inquires: "How do you like her ?" And I reply in a low voice, but with great resolution: "Not at all! I won't have that one.

Never!" I believe that this remark was almost understood in the circle around me.