“The narcissus.”

At mention of the name the little maid suddenly clapped her hands and cried joyfully: 

“Why, that is the name of our palace!  Now don’t you know where it is?”

“The ‘Palace of Narcissus’?  I have heard of it.”

“Then you will have no trouble finding my home.  Oh, you dear good little flower!” and she kissed the snowy blossom rapturously.

The old gentleman surveyed her smilingly for a few moments, then said: 

“I will go now, and buy the frock.”

“And while you are away I shall tell Philine the story of Gargantua,” responded the child.

“Lock the door after me, my dear, and do not open it until I mention my name:  Alfred Cambray—­”

“Oh, I should forget the second one!  Just say, ‘Papa Alfred’; I can remember that.”

When the child was certain that the old gentleman had left the house, she began hastily to search the room.  She peered into every corner and crevice.  Then she went into the adjoining chamber, and opened every drawer and cupboard.  In returning to the first room she saw some scraps of paper scattered about the floor.  She collected them carefully, placed them on the table, and dexterously fitted the pieces together until the entire note-sheet lay before her.  It was covered with writing which had evidently been traced by a hurried hand, yet the child seemed to have no difficulty in reading it.

When she heard the old gentleman’s footstep on the staircase, she brushed the scraps of paper from the table, and hastened to open the door before the signal was given; and when he exhibited his purchase she danced for joy.

“It is just like my ball-gown—­exactly like it!” she exclaimed, kissing the hands of her benefactor.  Then the old gentleman clothed the child as skilfully as if he were accustomed to such work.  When the task was finished he looked about him, and saw the scraps of paper on the floor; he swept them together, and threw them into the fire.

Then, with the hand of his little companion clasped in his own, he descended to the street in quest of a cab to take them to the Palace of Narcissus.

The Palace of Narcissus had originally been the property of the celebrated danseuse, Mlle. Guimard, for whom it had been built by the Duke de Soubise.  Like so many other fine houses, it had been confiscated by the Revolution and sold at auction—­or, rather, had been disposed of by lottery, a lady who had paid one hundred and twenty francs for her ticket winning it.

The winner of the palace sold it to M. Perigaud, a banker and shrewd speculator, who divided the large dwelling into suites of apartments, which became the favorite lodgings of the young men of fashion.  These young men were called the “narcissi,” and later, the “incroyables” and “petits creves.”  The building, however, retained the name of the Palace of Narcissus.

When the fiacre stopped at the door of the palace which led to her mama’s apartment, the little countess alighted with her escort, and said to the coachman: