There was method in this. Fifi had suddenly remembered that the next morning was Thursday. On that day, every week, Madame Bourcet indulged in the wild orgy of attending a lecture on mathematics delivered by her brother, the professor of mathematics, before a lyceum frequented by several elderly and mathematical ladies, like Madame Bourcet. When she was out of the house was clearly the time to get the preposterous bed in; and Fifi made her arrangements accordingly.
Nothing could have been more impressive than Fifi's studied calmness and coolness while giving directions about the bed. The clerk went after the proprietor, who could not conceal his surprise at a young lady like Fifi going about unattended, and with five thousand francs in her pocket. Fifi finally condescended to explain that she was Mademoiselle Chiaramonti. That cleared up everything. The proprietor, of course, had heard her story, and rashly and mistakenly assumed that Fifi was a little fool, but at all events, he had made a good bargain with her, and he bowed her out of the establishment as if she had been a princess as well as a fool.
Once outside in the clear sunshine, Fifi was tri-
