Part 31 (1/2)
”Pauvrette! Come! Let us celebrate this happy reunion,” said the other, grasping Fouchette's arm and striding along the bridge. ”You shall tell me everything, dear.”
”But, Mademoiselle--er----”
”Madeleine,--just Madeleine, Fouchette.”
”Mademoiselle Madeleine----”
”I live over here,--au Quartier Latin. It is the only place--the place to see life. It is Paris! C'est la vie joyeuse!”
”Ah! then you no longer live at----”
”Let us begin here, Fouchette,” interrupted Mlle. Madeleine, gravely, ”and let us never talk about Charenton,--never! It cannot be a pleasant subject to you,--it is painful to me.”
”Oh, pardon me, mademoiselle, I----”
”So it is understood, is it not?”
”With all my heart, mademoiselle!” said Fouchette, not sorry to conclude such a desirable bargain.
”Very good. We begin here----”
”Now.”
”Yes, and as if we had never before seen or heard of each other.”
”Exactly.”
”Good! Now, what are you doing for a living, Fouchette?”
”Nothing.”
”Good! So am I.”
They laughed quite a great deal at this remarkable coincidence as they went along. And when Mlle. Fouchette protested that she must do something,--sewing, or something,--Mlle. Madeleine laughed yet more loudly, though Mlle. Fouchette saw nothing humorous in the situation.
”n.o.body works in the Quartier Latin,” said Madeleine. ”C'est la vie joyeuse.”
”But one must eat, mademoiselle----”
”Very sure! Yes, and drink; but----”
Mlle. Madeleine scrutinized her companion closely,--evidently Mlle.
Fouchette was in earnest. Such navete in a ragpicker was absurd, preposterous!
”Well, there are the studios,” suggested Madeleine.
”The--the studios?”
”Yes,--the painters, you know; only models are a drug in the market here----”
”Models?”
”Yes; and, then, unless one has the figure----” she glanced at Fouchette doubtfully. ”I'm getting too stout for anything but Roman mothers, Breton peasants, etc. You're too thin even for an angel or ballet dancer.”