“In fact—­”

“Only try it.  What can you risk?”

“Nothing; but I can hardly believe that all you say is true.  And then,” added she, with hesitation, “I do not know if I ought—­”

Ninny Moulin went to the window, opened it, and said to Rose-Pompon, who ran up to it, “Look there! before the door of the house.”

“What a pretty carriage!  How comfortable a body’d be inside of it!”

“That carriage is yours.  It is waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me!” exclaimed Rose-Pompon; “am I to decide as short as that?”

“Or not at all.”

“To-day?”

“On the instant.”

“But where will they take me?”

“How should I know?”

“You do not know where they will take me?”

“Not I,”—­and Dumoulin still spoke the truth—­“the coachman has his orders.”

“Do you know all this is very funny, Ninny Moulin?”

“I believe you.  If it were not funny, where would be the pleasure?”

“You are right.”

“Then you accept the offer?  That is well.  I am delighted both for you and myself.”

“For yourself?”

“Yes; because, in accepting, you render me a great service.”

“You?  How so?”

“It matters little, as long as I feel obliged to you.”

“True.”

“Come, then; let us set out!”

“Bah! after all, they cannot eat me,” said Rose-Pompon, resolutely.

With a skip and a jump, she went to fetch a rose-colored cap, and, going up to a broken looking-glass, placed the cap very much cocked on one side on her bands of light hair.  This left uncovered her snowy neck, with the silky roots of the hair behind, and gave to her pretty face a very mischievous, not to say licentious expression.

“My cloak!” said she to Ninny Moulin, who seemed to be relieved from a considerable amount of uneasiness, since she had accepted his offer.

“Fie! a cloak will not do,” answered her companion, feeling once more in his pocket and drawing out a fine Cashmere shawl, which he threw over Rose-Pompon’s shoulders.

“A Cashmere!” cried the young girl, trembling with pleasure and joyous surprise.  Then she added, with an air of heroism:  “It is settled!  I will run the gauntlet.”  And with a light step she descended the stairs, followed by Ninny Moulin.

The worthy greengrocer was at her post.  “Good-morning, mademoiselle; you are early to-day,” said she to the young girl.

“Yes, Mother Arsene; there is my key.”

“Thank you, mademoiselle.”

“Oh! now I think of it,” said Rose Pompon, suddenly, in a whisper, as she turned towards Ninny Moulin, and withdrew further from the portress, “what is to became of Philemon?”

“Philemon?”

“If he should arrive—­”

“Oh! the devil!” said Ninny Moulin, scratching his ear.

“Yes; if Philemon should arrive, what will they say to him? for I may be a long time absent.”