it. Thus thrown together by a fate with which it is impossible to contend, they determine to put up with each other's society as best they may. The limited area at their disposal is divided into two equal parts by an imaginary line, and each undertakes to keep to his or her own territory until such time as somebody shall appear who can give them a clue out of the perplexing labyrinth. The lady thinks she cannot do better than employ her enforced leisure by singing some of the favourite ballads of her early infancy, and the gentleman (whose tastes are more material) proceeds to devote himself to the lunch, which he has brought with him in a basket. The lady's attention is arrested by his movements, and in an agony of dread at the anticipated appearance of the detested dish, implores him (in a parody on "Robert, toi que j'aime") to postpone his meal until she can escape from the maze. In a comic duet (a community of proceeding not forbidden by the terms of their treaty), he declines to entertain her suggestion, and proceeds to lunch off—not a sheep's head, but a magnificent pâté de foie gras. The whole truth flashed upon her in a moment. A wicked marquis, who seeks her hand, has spread the detestable calumny which has caused her detestation for her betrothed lover! She rushes to his arms and embraces him, and the gentleman, as soon as he has recovered from the astonishment with which this proceeding not unnaturally strikes him, is amazed and delighted to discover that the lady is absolutely free from all suggestion of peppermint. He at once perceives that a wealthy (but hideous) duchess, who adores him, is the author of the abominable rumour
