THE AMERICAN
"The ball in the Latin Quarter, where the students dance with their mistresses. Don't tell me you've not heard of it."
"Oh yes," said Newman; "I've heard of it; I remember now. I've even been there. And you want to go there?"
"It's bête, it 's low, it 's anything you please. But I want to go. Some of my friends have been, and they say it's very curious. My friends go everywhere; it's only I who sit moping at home."
"It seems to me you're not at home now," said Newman, "and I should n't exactly say you were moping."
"I'm bored to death. I've been to the opera twice a week for the last eight years. Whenever I ask for anything my mouth is stopped with that: Pray, madame, have n't you your loge aux Italiens? Could a woman of taste want more? In the first place my box was down in my contrat; they have to give it to me. To-night, for instance, I should have preferred a thousand times to go to the Palais Royal. But my husband won't go to the Palais Royal because the ladies of the court go there so much. You may imagine then whether he would take me to Bullier's; he says it is a mere imitation—and a bad one—of what they do in the imperial intimité. But as I'm not yet for a little in the imperial intimité—which must be charming—why should n't I look in where you can get the nearest notion of it? It 's my dream at any rate; it 's a fixed idea. All I ask of you is to give me your arm; you're less compromising than any one else. I don't know why, but you are. I can
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