He must have the bouquet the day after tomorrow.
Meanwhile, the thermometer fell still lower, and the luckless poet was ready to despair as he thought the violets might have risen higher.
Finally his good angel had pity on him, and came to his relief as follows.
One morning, Rodolphe went to take his chance of getting a breakfast from his friend Marcel the painter, and found him conversing with a woman in mourning.

It was a widow who had just lost her husband, and who wanted to know how much it would cost to paint on the tomb which she had erected, a man's hand, with this inscription beneath: "I WAIT FOR HER TO WHOM MY FAITH WAS PLIGHTED." To get the work at a cheaper rate, she observed to the artist that when she was called to rejoin her husband, he would have another hand to paint--her hand with a bracelet on the wrist and the supplementary line beneath: "AT LENGTH, BEHOLD US THUS ONCE MORE UNITED." "I shall put this clause in my will," she said, "and require that the task be intrusted to you." "In that case, madame," replied the artist, "I will do it at the price you offer--but only in the hope of seeing your hand.

Don't go and forget me in your will." "I should like to have this as soon as possible," said the disconsolate one, "nevertheless, take your time to do it well and don't forget the scar on the thumb.

I want a living hand." "Don't be afraid, madame, it shall be a speaking one," said Marcel, as he bowed the widow out.

But hardly had she crossed the threshold when she returned, saying, "I have one more thing to ask you, sir: I should like to have inscribed on my husband's tomb something in verse which would tell of his good conduct and his last words.