“I have thought of you,” she said as soon as she entered.

“Ah!”

“We have a tenant in the house who is going to give a large party to-night.  I have mentioned you to her; and she says she will give you thirty francs if you will make her guests jump.  Thirty francs!  That’s a big sum; and besides, if they are pleased, you will get more customers.”

“In what part of the house does she live?”

“In the second story of the back building, looking upon the yard.  Mrs. Hilaire, a very nice person, and so good! there is no one like her.  You would have to be there at nine o’clock precisely.”

“I’ll come.”

Quite happy, and full of hope, Henrietta spent a part of the afternoon in mending her only dress, a black silk dress, much worn unfortunately, and already often repaired.  Still, by much skill and patience, she had managed to look quite respectable when she rang the bell at Mrs. Hilaire’s door.  She was shown into a room furnished with odd furniture, but brilliantly lighted, in which seven or eight ladies in flaming costumes, and as many fashionable gentlemen, were smoking and taking coffee.  Both ladies and gentlemen had just risen from table; there was no mistaking it from their eyes and the sound of their voices.

“Look! there is the musician from the garret!” exclaimed a large, dark-skinned woman, pretty, but very vulgar, who seemed to be Mrs. Hilaire.

And, turning to Henrietta, she asked,—­

“Will you take a little glass of something, my darling?”

The poor girl blushed crimson, and, painfully embarrassed, declined, and asked pardon for declining; when the lady broke in rather rudely, and said,—­

“You are not thirsty?  Very well.  You’ll drink after some time.  In the meantime will you play us a quadrille? and mark the time, please.”

Then imitating with distressing accuracy the barking voice of masters of ceremonies at public balls, she called out,—­

“Take your positions, take your positions:  a quadrille!”

Henrietta had taken her seat at the piano.  She turned her back to the dancers; but she had before her a mirror, in which she saw every gesture of Mrs. Hilaire and her guests.  And then she became quite sure of what she had suspected from the beginning.  She understood into what company she had been inveigled by the concierge’s wife.  She had, however, sufficient self-control to finish the quadrille.  But, when the last figure had been danced, she rose; and, walking up to the mistress of the house, said, stammering painfully, and in extreme embarrassment,—­

“Please excuse me, madam, I have to leave.  I feel very unwell.  I could not play any more.”

“How funny!” cried one of the gentlemen.  “Here is our ball at an end!”

But the young woman said,—­

“Hush, Julius!  Don’t you see how pale she is,—­pale like death, the poor child!  What is the matter with you, darling?  Is it the heat that makes you feel badly?  It is stifling hot here.”