This admirable proposition was no sooner made than acted upon; so we started immediately, and Dalrymple, who seemed to be well acquainted with the usages of student-life, proposed that we should take with us a store of sweetmeats for the ladies.

“There subsists,” observed he, “a mysterious elective affinity between the grisette and the chocolate bon-bon.  He who can skilfully exhibit the latter, is almost certain to win the heart of the former.  Where the chocolate fails, however, the marron glace is an infallible specific.  I recommend that we lay in a liberal supply of both weapons.”

“Carried by acclamation,” said Mueller.  “We can buy them on our way, in the Rue Vivienne.  A capital shop; but one that I never patronize—­they give no credit.”

Chatting thus, and laughing, we made our way across the Boulevard and through a net-work of by-streets into the Rue Vivienne, where we laid siege to a great bon-bon shop—­a gigantic depot for dyspepsia at so much per kilogramme—­and there filled our pockets with sweets of every imaginable flavor and color.  This done, a cab conveyed us in something less than ten minutes across the Pont Neuf to the Quartier Latin.

Mueller’s friends were three in number, and all students—­one of art, one of law, and one of medicine.  They lodged at the top of a dingy house near the Odeon, and being very great friends and very near neighbors were giving this entertainment conjointly.  Their names were Gustave, Jules, and Adrien.  Adrien was the artist, and lived in the garret, just over the heads of Gustave and Jules, which made it very convenient for a party, and placed a suite of rooms at the disposal of their visitors.

Long before we had achieved the five pairs of stairs, we heard the sound of voices and the scraping of a violin, and on the fifth landing were received by a pretty young lady in a coquettish little cap, whom Mueller familiarly addressed as Annette, and who piloted us into a very small bed-room which was already full of hats and coats, bonnets, shawls, and umbrellas.  Having added our own paletots and beavers to the general stock, and having each received a little bit of pasteboard in exchange for the same, we were shown into the ball-room by Mademoiselle Annette, who appeared to fill the position of hostess, usher, and general superintendent.

It was a good-sized room, somewhat low in the ceiling, and brilliantly lighted with lots of tallow candles in bottles.  The furniture had all been cleared out for the dancers, except a row of benches round the walls, and a chest of draws in a recess between the windows which served as a raised platform for the orchestra.  The said orchestra consisted of a violin and accordion, both played by amateurs, with an occasional obligato on the common comb.  As for the guests, they were, as Mueller had already told us, all students and grisettes—­the former wearing every strange variety of beard and blouse; the latter in pretty light-colored muslins and bewitching little caps, with the exception of two who wore flowers in their hair, and belonged to the opera ballet.  They were in the midst of a tremendous galop when we arrived; so we stood at the door and looked on, and Dalrymple flirted with Mademoiselle Annette.  As soon as the galop was over, two of our hosts came forward to welcome us.