But conceive what it was to see them through an atmosphere of warm white steam that left an objectionable clamminess on the backs of the chairs and caused even the door-handle to burst into a tepid perspiration.

Conceive what it was to behold my adored one standing in the middle of the room, up to her elbows in soap-suds, washing out the very dress in which she was to appear on the morrow....
Good taste defend us! Could anything be more cruelly calculated to disturb the tender tenor of a lover's dreams?
Fancy what Leander would have felt, if, after swimming across the Hellespont, he had surprised Hero at the washing-tub! Imagine Romeo's feelings, if he had scaled the orchard-walls only to find Juliet helping to hang out the family linen! The worst of it was that my lovely Josephine was not in the least embarrassed.

She evidently regarded the washing-tub as a desirable piece of furniture, and was not even conscious that the act of "soaping in," was an unromantic occupation! Such was the severity of this first blow that I pleaded an engagement, presented my offerings (how dreadfully inappropriate they seemed!), and hurried away to a lecture on _materia medica_ at the _Ecole Pratique_; that being a good, congenial, dismal entertainment for the evening! Sunday came with the sunrise, and at midday, true as the clock of St.
Eustache, I knocked once more at the door of the _mansarde_ where my Josephine dwelt.

This time, my visit being anticipated, I found her dressed to receive me.

She looked more fresh and charming than ever; and the lilac muslin which I had seen in the washing-tub some eighteen or twenty hours before, became her to perfection.