Monsieur Bouchard passed on to the next picture, that of the hero of the Grand Prix. He liked horses—in pictures, that is—and really found Courier more to his taste than “Kittens at Play.” His countenance cleared, and when Pierre gravely directed him to the young lady poised on one toe and reaching skyward with the other, a faint smile actually appeared[27] on Monsieur Bouchard’s face. Then, his eye falling on the other young lady who was trying to make twelve o’clock meridian, every wrinkle on his forehead smoothed out, his mouth came open like a rat trap, and he involuntarily assumed an attitude of pleased contemplation, with his hands under his coat tails.

[27]

Suddenly, however, it flashed on him that Mademoiselle Bouchard’s paid detective, in the person of Pierre, was eyeing him, and with the quickness of thought Monsieur Bouchard’s appreciative smile gave way to a portentous frown, and turning to Pierre, he said, sternly:

“Take this thing away! It is reprehensible both in art and morals! I can’t have it here!”

But, wonder of wonders! there stood Pierre, his mouth wide open in a silent guffaw, his left eye nearly closed. Was it possible that he was daring to wink at his master? Pierre,[28] however, pretty soon solved the situation by putting his finger on the side of his nose—a shocking familiarity—and saying, roguishly:

[28]

“Ah, sir, I have something to say to you. I was forced, yes, actually driven, from the decorous quiet of the Rue Clarisse and the company of Mademoiselle Bouchard and my worthy Élise and the cats, to this gay locality[29] by my solicitude for Monsieur. That is to say, Mademoiselle thinks I was. One thing is certain—I was sent here to cake care of Monsieur. Well, it depends entirely on Monsieur how I take care of him. Do you understand, sir?”

[29]

“N—n—not exactly.” Monsieur Bouchard was a little frightened. Having Pierre to mount guard over him seemed destructive of the harmless liberty and mild gaiety he had promised himself in the Rue Bassano.

“Just this, sir. My wife, I have reason to know, expects Monsieur to watch me and report to her. Mademoiselle expects me to watch Monsieur and report to her. Now, what prevents us from each giving a good account of the other, and meanwhile doing as we please?”

Monsieur for a moment looked indignant at this impudent proposition, coming, too, as it 

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