
letter and handed it to a zoologist who was looked upon as an expert in
all matters pertaining to love; he shook his head while perusing it.

"No good, that...." he muttered disconnectedly; "wants to be married
... would never sell herself ... family, my dear old chap ... straight
path ... but do what you like. You'll find us in the Park, later on,
if the spirit moves you to join us, and I have been wrong about the
lady...."

At the hour indicated I took up my position near the house mentioned,
and awaited the appearance of the unknown letter-writer.

The roll of music in her hand, what was it but a proposal of marriage?
It differed in no way from the announcements on the fourth page of
certain newspapers. I suddenly felt uneasy; too late--the lady had
arrived and we stood looking at each other.

My first impression--I believe in first impressions--was quite vague.
She was of uncertain age, between twenty-nine and forty, fantastically
dressed. What was she? Artist or blue-stocking? A sheltered woman or
one living a free and independent life? Emancipated or cocotte? I
wondered....

She introduced herself as the fiancee of an old friend of mine, an
opera singer, and said that he wished me to look after her while she
was staying in town. This was untrue, as I found out later on.

She was like a little bird, twittering incessantly. After she had
talked for half-an-hour I knew all about her; I knew all her emotions,
all her thoughts. But I was only half interested, and asked her if I
could do anything for her.

"I take care of a young woman!" I exclaimed, after she had explained
what she wanted. "Don't you know that I am the devil incarnate?"

"You only think you are," she replied; "but I know you thoroughly.
You're unhappy, that's all. You ought to be roused from your gloomy
fancies."

"You know me thoroughly? You really think so? I'm afraid all you know
is the now antiquated opinion your fiance has of me."

It was no use talking, my "charming friend" was well informed and
knew how to read a man's heart, even from a