Set your table, and I will pass you the dishes." Rodolphe let down his turban by a string, and brought it back laden with eatables, then the poet and the actress proceeded to dine--on their respective floors.

Rodolphe devoured the pie with his teeth, and Sidonia with his eyes.
"Thanks to you, mademoiselle," he said, when their repast was finished, "my stomach is satisfied.

Can you not also satisfy the void of my heart, which has been so long empty ?" "Poor fellow!" said Sidonia, and climbing on a piece of furniture, she lifted up her hand to Rodolphe's lips, who gloved it with kisses.
"What a pity," he exclaimed, "you can't do as St.Denis, who had the privilege of carrying his head in his hands!" To the dinner succeeded a sentimental literary conversation.

Rodolphe spoke of "The Avenger," and Sidonia asked him to read it.

Leaning over the hole, he began declaiming his drama to the actress, who, to hear better, had put her arm chair on the top of a chest of drawers.