I do not like to drink my wine out of another's glass." Musette was silent in face of this refusal.

Then through the mist of her recollections she saw the poor home of the artist, for Marcel had not become a millionaire.

She had an idea, and profiting by meeting another picket she manifested fresh alarm.
"They are going to fight," she exclaimed.

"I shall never dare go home.
Marcel, my dear fellow, take me to one of my lady friends, who must be living in your neighborhood." As they were crossing the Pont Neuf Musette broke into a laugh.
"What is it ?" asked Marcel.
"Nothing," replied Musette, "only I remember that my friend has moved.
She is living at Batignolles." On seeing Marcel and Musette arrive arm in arm Rodolphe was not astonished.
"It is always so," said he, "with these badly buried loves.".