As he passed a brilliantly lighted shop, a fresh young voice saluted him.
"M.

Andre, M.Andre." He looked up in extreme surprise, and saw a young woman, dressed in the most extravagant style, standing by the door of a brougham, which glittered with fresh paint and varnish.

In vain he tried to think who she could be, but at length his memory served him.
"Mademoiselle Rose," said he, "or I am much mistaken." A shrill, squeaky voice replied, "Madame Zora Chantemille, if you please." Andre turned sharply round and found himself face to face with a young man who had completed an order he was giving to the coachman.
"Ah, is that you ?" said he.
"Yes, Chantemille is the name of the estate that I intend to settle on madame." The painter examined the personage who had just addressed him with much curiosity.

He was dressed in the height or rather the burlesque of fashion, wore an eyeglass, and an enormous locket on his chain.

The face which surmounted all this grandeur was almost that of a monkey, and Toto Chupin had not exaggerated its ugliness when he likened it to that animal.
"Pooh," cried Rose, "what matters a name?
All you have to do is to ask this gentleman, who is an old friend of mine, to dinner." And without waiting for a reply, she took Andre by the hand and led him into a brilliantly lighted hall.