“Yes, that is my name, Monsieur.  I lodge on the fourth floor....”

“But pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet,” said Mueller, opening the door still wider and bowing still more profoundly.

“Monsieur,” returned the fourth-floor lodger, “I—­I only come to complain....”

“Whatever the occasion of this honor, Monsieur,” pursued the student, with increasing politeness, “we cannot suffer you to remain on the landing.  Pray do us the favor to walk in.”

“Oh, walk in—­pray walk in, Monsieur Bobinet,” echoed Jules, Gustave, and Adrien, all together.

The fourth-floor lodger hesitated; took a step forward; thought, perhaps, that, since we were all so polite, he would do his best to conciliate us; and, glancing down nervously at his dressing-gown and slippers, said:—­

“Really, gentlemen, I should have much pleasure, but I am not prepared....”

“Don’t mention it, Monsieur Bobinet,” said Mueller.  “We are delighted to receive you.  Allow me to disembarrass you of your candle.”

“And permit me,” said Jules, “to relieve you of your stick.”

“Pray, Monsieur Bobinet, do you never dance the polka?” asked Gustave.

“Bring Monsieur Bobinet a glass of cold punch,” said Adrien.

“And a plate of lobster salad,” added the bearded student.

Monsieur Bobinet, finding the door already closed behind him, looked round nervously; but encountering only polite and smiling faces, endeavored to seem at his ease, and to put a good face upon the matter.

“Indeed, gentlemen, I must beg you to excuse me,” said he.  “I never drink at night, and I never eat suppers.  I only came to request....”

“Nay, Monsieur Bobinet, we cannot suffer you to leave us without taking a glass of cold punch,” pursued Mueller.

“Upon my word,” began the lodger, “I dare not....”

“A glass of white wine, then?”

“Or a cup of coffee?”

“Or some home-made lemonade?”

Monsieur Bobinet cast a look of helpless longing towards the door.

“If you really insist, gentlemen,” said he, “I will take a cup of coffee; but indeed....”

“A cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!” shouted Mueller.

“A large cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!” repeated Jules.

“A strong cup of coffee for Monsieur Bobinet!” cried Gustave, following up the lead of the other two.

The fourth-floor lodger frowned and colored up, beginning to be suspicious of mischief.  Seeing this, Mueller hastened to apologize.

“You must pardon us, Monsieur Bobinet,” he said with the most winning amiability, “if we are all in unusually high spirits to-night.  You are not aware, perhaps, that our friend Monsieur Jules Charpentier was married this morning, and that we are here in celebration of that happy event.  Allow me to introduce you to the bride.”

And turning to one of the ballet ladies, he led her forward with exceeding gravity, and presented her to Monsieur Bobinet as Madame Charpentier.