only to be seen in public places—the Thuilleries for example."
"What sort of a place is that?" inquired the lady.
"It's the garden of the royal palace—the king's palace."
"Does he live there?" said she.
"He does usually," answered her companion.
"I should like to go there very much," responded the lady.
"I thought so," replied her companion. "Of course it's the resort of the court, and myriads of gay cavaliers, young, handsome and rich are to be met with. I think it will be time enough to go to the Château de la Rosa when we have shown ourselves here a little. What say you?"
"I should like to go to the Thuilleries, by all means," returned the lady; "but I don't intend to give up being a marchioness."
"Certainly not, unless you gave it up for something better," replied the gentleman. "But there are more marquises in the world than Don Querubin who have an eye for beauty; young, handsome, and rich ones into the bargain; not to mention counts, dukes, and princes, all as plenty as blackberries here. At all events you can give it a trial. A little delay can do no harm;
