That Chamber of Horrors at Montmartre, that tavern where Legras sings the 'Flowers of the Streets'-- " "Oh! a delightful spot, madame," interrupted Massot, "I wouldn't take even a gendarme there." "No, don't jest, Monsieur Massot, I'm talking seriously.

Isn't it quite allowable for a respectable woman to go there when she's accompanied by a gentleman ?" And, without allowing the journalist time to answer her, she turned towards Hyacinthe: "There! you see that Monsieur Massot doesn't say no! You've got to take me there this evening, it's sworn, it's sworn." Then she darted away to sell a packet of pins to an old lady, while the young man contented himself with remarking, in the voice of one who has no illusions left: "She's quite idiotic with her Chamber of Horrors!" Massot philosophically shrugged his shoulders.

It was only natural that a woman should want to amuse herself.

And when Hyacinthe had gone off, passing with perverse contempt beside the lovely girls who were selling lottery tickets, the journalist ventured to murmur: "All the same, it would do that youngster good if a woman were to take him in hand." Then, again addressing Pierre, he resumed: "Why, here comes Duthil! What did Sagnier mean this morning by saying that Duthil would sleep at Mazas to-night ?" In a great hurry apparently, and all smiles, Duthil was cutting his way through the crowd in order to join Duvillard and Fonsegue, who still stood talking near the Baroness's stall.

And he waved his hand to them in a victorious way, to imply that he had succeeded in the delicate mission entrusted to him.