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3 4 5 6 7 8

1.3000 1.7000 2.1000 2.5000

9 7 5 3

>> 3:8
ans =
3 4 5 6 7 8
>> 1.3: 0.4: 2.5
ans =
1.3000 1.7000 2.1000 2.5000
 >> 9: -2: 3
ans =
9 7 5 3

6) Using a built-in function, create a vector vec which consists of 30 equally spaced
points in the range from –2*pi to +pi.

>> vec = linspace(-2*pi, pi, 30)

7) Write an expression using linspace that will result in the same as 1:0.5:3

>> 1: 0.5: 3
ans =
1.0000 1.5000 2.0000 2.5000 3.0000
>> linspace(1,3,5)
ans =
1.0000 1.5000 2.0000 2.5000 3.0000

8) Using the colon operator and also the linspace function, create the following row
vectors:

-4 -3 -2 -1 0

9 7 5

4 6 8

>> -4:0
ans =
-4 -3 -2 -1 0
>> linspace(-4, 0, 5)
ans =
-4 -3 -2 -1 0
>> 9:-2:5
ans =
9 7 5
>> linspace(9, 5, 3)
ans =
9 7 5
>> 4:2:8
ans =
4 6 8
>> linspace(4,8,3)
ans =
4 6 8

9) How many elements would be in the vectors created by the following expressions?
 linspace(3,2000)

100 (always, by default)

logspace(3,2000)

50 (always, by default – although these numbers

would get very large quickly; most would be
represented as Inf)

10) Create a variable myend which stores a random integer in the inclusive range from
5 to 9. Using the colon operator, create a vector that iterates from 1 to myend in steps
of 3.

>>myend = randi([5, 9])

myend =
8
>> vec = 1:3:myend
vec =
1 4 7

11) Create two row vector variables. Concatenate them together to create a new row
vector variable.

>> rowa = 2:4

rowa =
2 3 4
>> rowb = 5:2:10
rowb =
5 7 9
>> newrow = [rowa rowb]
newrow =
2 3 4 5 7 9
>>

12) Using the colon operator and the transpose operator, create a column vector
myvec that has the values -1 to 1 in steps of 0.5.

>> rowVec = -1: 0.5: 1;

>> rowVec'
ans =
-1.0000
-0.5000
0
0.5000
1.0000
13)Explain why the following expression results in a row vector, not a column vector:

colvec = 1:3’

Only the 3 is transposed; need to put in [] to get a column

vector

14) Write an expression that refers to only the elements that have odd-numbered
subscripts in a vector, regardless of the length of the vector. Test your expression on
vectors that have both an odd and even number of elements.

>> vec = 1:8;

>> vec(1:2:end)
ans =
1 3 5 7

>> vec = 4:12

vec =
4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
>> vec(1:2:end)
ans =
4 6 8 10 12

15) Generate a 2 x 4 matrix variable mat. Replace the first row with 1:4. Replace the
third column (you decide with which values).

>> mat = [2:5; 1 4 11 3]

mat =
2 3 4 5
1 4 11 3
>> mat(1,:) = 1:4
mat =
1 2 3 4
1 4 11 3
>> mat(:,3) = [4;3]
mat =
1 2 4 4
1 4 3 3

16) Generate a 2 x 4 matrix variable mat. Verify that the number of elements is equal to
the product of the number of rows and columns.

>> mat = randi(20,2,4)

mat =
1 19 17 9
 13 15 20 16
>> [r c] = size(mat);
>> numel(mat) == r * c
ans =
1

17) Which would you normally use for a matrix: length or size? Why?

Definitely size, because it tells you both the number of

rows and columns.

18) When would you use length vs. size for a vector?

If you want to know the number of elements, you’d use

length. If you want to figure out whether it’s a row or
column vector, you’d use size.

19) Generate a 2 x 3 matrix of random

• real numbers, each in the range (0, 1)
• real numbers, each in the range (0, 5)
• integers, each in the inclusive range from 10 to 50

>> rand(2,3)
ans =
0.5208 0.5251 0.1665
0.1182 0.1673 0.2944

>> rand(2,3)*5
ans =
1.9468 2.3153 4.6954
0.8526 2.9769 3.2779

>> randi([10, 50], 2, 3)

ans =
16 20 39
12 17 27

20) Create a variable rows that is a random integer in the inclusive range from 1 to 5.
Create a variable cols that is a random integer in the inclusive range from 1 to 5.
Create a matrix of all zeros with the dimensions given by the values of rows and cols.

>> rows = randi([1,5])

rows =
3
>> cols = randi([1,5])
cols =
2
 >> zeros(rows,cols)
ans =
0 0
0 0
0 0

21) Create a vector variable vec. Find as many expressions as you can that would
refer to the last element in the vector, without assuming that you know how many
elements it has (i.e., make your expressions general).

>> vec = 1:2:9

vec =
1 3 5 7 9
>> vec(end)
ans =
9
>> vec(numel(vec))
ans =
9
>> vec(length(vec))
ans =
9
>> v = fliplr(vec);
>> v(1)
ans =
9

22) Create a matrix variable mat. Find as many expressions as you can that would
refer to the last element in the matrix, without assuming that you know how many
elements or rows or columns it has (i.e., make your expressions general).

>> mat = [12:15; 6:-1:3]

mat =
12 13 14 15
6 5 4 3
>> mat(end,end)
ans =
3
>> mat(end)
ans =
3
>> [r c] = size(mat);
>> mat(r,c)
ans =
3
23) Create a 2 x 3 matrix variable mat. Pass this matrix variable to each of the following
functions and make sure you understand the result: flip, fliplr, flipud, and rot90. In
how many different ways can you reshape it?

>> mat = randi([1,20], 2,3)

mat =
16 5 8
15 18 1
>> flip(mat)
ans =
15 18 1
16 5 8
>>fliplr(mat)
ans =
8 5 16
1 18 15
>> flipud(mat)
ans =
15 18 1
16 5 8
>> rot90(mat)
ans =
8 1
5 18
16 15
>> rot90(rot90(mat))
ans =
1 18 15
8 5 16
>> reshape(mat,3,2)
ans =
16 18
15 8
5 1
>> reshape(mat,1,6)
ans =
16 15 5 18 8 1
>> reshape(mat,6,1)
ans =
16
15
5
18
8
1

24) What is the difference between fliplr(mat) and mat = fliplr(mat)?

 The first stores the result in ans so mat is not changed; the second changes mat.

25) Fill in the following:

The function flip is equivalent to the function fliplr for a row vector.
The function flip is equivalent to the function flipud for a column vector.
The function flip is equivalent to the function flipud for a matrix.

26) Use reshape to reshape the row vector 1:4 into a 2x2 matrix; store this in a variable
named mat. Next, make 2x3 copies of mat using both repelem and repmat.

>> mat = reshape(1:4,2,2)

mat =
1 3
2 4
>> repelem(mat,2,3)
ans =
1 1 1 3 3 3
1 1 1 3 3 3
2 2 2 4 4 4
2 2 2 4 4 4
>> repmat(mat,2,3)
ans =
1 3 1 3 1 3
2 4 2 4 2 4
1 3 1 3 1 3
2 4 2 4 2 4

27) Create a 3 x 5 matrix of random real numbers. Delete the third row.

>> mat = rand(3,5)

mat =
0.5226 0.9797 0.8757 0.0118 0.2987
0.8801 0.2714 0.7373 0.8939 0.6614
0.1730 0.2523 0.1365 0.1991 0.2844

>> mat(3,:) = []
mat =
0.5226 0.9797 0.8757 0.0118 0.2987
0.8801 0.2714 0.7373 0.8939 0.6614

28) Given the matrix:

>> mat = randi([1 20], 3,5)
mat =
6 17 7 13 17
17 5 4 10 12
 6 19 6 8 11
Why wouldn’t this work:

mat(2:3, 1:3) = ones(2)

Because the left and right sides are not the same dimensions.

29) Create a three-dimensional matrix with dimensions 2 x 4 x 3 in which the first

“layer” is all 0s, the second is all 1s and the third is all 5s. Use size to verify the
dimensions.

>> mat3d = zeros(2,4,3);

>> mat3d(:,:,2) = 1;
>> mat3d(:,:,3) = 5;
>> mat3d
mat3d(:,:,1) =
0 0 0 0
0 0 0 0
mat3d(:,:,2) =
1 1 1 1
1 1 1 1
mat3d(:,:,3) =
5 5 5 5
5 5 5 5
>> size(mat3d)
ans =
2 4 3

30) Create a vector x which consists of 20 equally spaced points in the range from – to
+. Create a y vector which is sin(x).

>> x = linspace(-pi,pi,20);
>> y = sin(x);

31) Create a 3 x 5 matrix of random integers, each in the inclusive range from -5 to 5.
Get the sign of every element.

>> mat = randi([-5,5], 3,5)

mat =
5 4 1 -1 -5
4 4 -1 -3 0
5 -2 1 0 4
>> sign(mat)
ans =
1 1 1 -1 -1
1 1 -1 -1 0
 1 -1 1 0 1

32) Find the sum 2+4+6+8+10 using sum and the colon operator.

>> sum(2:2:10)
ans =
30

33) Find the sum of the first n terms of the harmonic series where n is an integer
variable greater than one.
1 1 1 1
1 + + + + +…
2 3 4 5

>> n = 4;
>> sum(1./(1:n))
ans =
2.0833

34) Find the following sum by first creating vectors for the numerators and
denominators:

3 5 7 9
+ + +
1 2 3 4

>> num = 3:2:9

num =
3 5 7 9
>> denom = 1:4
denom =
1 2 3 4
>> fracs = num ./ denom
fracs =
3.0000 2.5000 2.3333 2.2500
>> sum(fracs)
ans =
10.0833

35) Create a matrix and find the product of each row and column using prod.

>> mat = randi([1, 30], 2,3)

mat =
11 24 16
5 10 5

>> prod(mat)
 ans =
55 240 80

>> prod(mat,2)
ans =
4224
250

36) Create a 1 x 6 vector of random integers, each in the inclusive range from 1 to 20.
Use built-in functions to find the minimum and maximum values in the vector. Also
create a vector of cumulative sums using cumsum.

>> vec = randi([1,20], 1,6)

vec =
12 20 10 17 15 10
>> min(vec)
ans =
10
>> max(vec)
ans =
20
>> cvec = cumsum(vec)
cvec =
12 32 42 59 74 84

37) Write a relational expression for a vector variable that will verify that the last value in
a vector created by cumsum is the same as the result returned by sum.

>> vec = 2:3:17

vec =
2 5 8 11 14 17
>> cv = cumsum(vec)
cv =
2 7 15 26 40 57
>> sum(vec) == cv(end)
ans =
1

38) Create a vector of five random integers, each in the inclusive range from -10 to 10.
Perform each of the following:

• subtract 3 from each element

• count how many are positive
• get the cumulative minimum

>> vec = randi([-10, 10], 1,5)

vec =
 1 8 3 -7 7
>> vec - 3
ans =
-2 5 0 -10 4
>> sum(vec>0)
ans =
4
>> cummin(vec)
ans =
1 1 1 -7 -7

39) Create a 3 x 5 matrix. Perform each of the following:

• Find the maximum value in each column.

• Find the maximum value in each row.
• Find the maximum value in the entire matrix.
• Find the cumulative maxima.

>> mat = randi([-10 10], 3,5)

mat =
1 -5 0 -2 10
2 1 1 6 -3
-6 10 -3 5 2
>> max(mat)
ans =
2 10 1 6 10
>> max(mat, [], 2)
ans =
10
6
10
>> max(mat')
ans =
10 6 10
>> max(max(mat))
ans =
10
>> cummax(mat)
ans =
1 -5 0 -2 10
2 1 1 6 10
2 10 1 6 10

40) Find two ways to create a 3 x 5 matrix of all 100s (Hint: use ones and zeros).

ones(3,5)*100
 zeros(3,5)+100

41) Create variables for these two matrices:

A B
é 1 2 3 ùé
ê 2 4 1 ù
ú ê ú
ë 4 -1 6 û ë 1 3 0 û

Perform the following operations:

A + B
é3 6 4 ù
ê ú
ë5 2 6 û
A – B
é -1 -2 2 ù
ê ú
ë 3 -4 6 û
A .* B

é2 8 3 ù
ê ú
ë 4 -3 0 û

42) A vector v stores for several employees of the Green Fuel Cells Corporation their
hours worked one week followed for each by the hourly pay rate. For example, if the
variable stores
>> v
v =
33.0000 10.5000 40.0000 18.0000 20.0000 7.5000
that means the first employee worked 33 hours at $10.50 per hour, the second worked
40 hours at $18 an hour, and so on. Write code that will separate this into two vectors,
one that stores the hours worked and another that stores the hourly rates. Then, use
the array multiplication operator to create a vector, storing in the new vector the total
pay for every employee.

>> hours = v(1:2:length(v))

hours =
33 40 20

>> payrate = v(2:2:length(v))

payrate =
10.5000 18.0000 7.5000

>> totpay = hours .* payrate

totpay =
346.5000 720.0000 150.0000
43) Write code that would count how many elements in a matrix variable mat are
negative numbers. Create a matrix of random numbers, some positive and some
negative, first.

>> mat
mat =
1 -5 0 -2 10
2 1 1 6 -3
-6 10 -3 5 2
>> sum(sum(mat < 0))
ans =
5

44) A company is calibrating some measuring instrumentation and has measured the
radius and height of one cylinder 8 separate times; they are in vector variables r and h.
Find the volume from each trial, which is given by Πr2h. Also use logical indexing first to
make sure that all measurements were valid (> 0).

>> r = [5.499 5.498 5.5 5.5 5.52 5.51 5.5 5.48];

>> h = [11.1 11.12 11.09 11.11 11.11 11.1 11.08 11.11];

>> all(r>0 & h>0)

ans =
1
>> vol = pi * r.^2 .* h

45) For the following matrices A, B, and C:

2 1 3
1 4   3 2 5
A=   B = 1 5 6  C=  
3 2 3 6 0 4 1 2 

• Give the result of 3*A.

3 12
 
9 6 

• Give the result of A*C.

19 6 13
 
17 8 19

• Are there any other matrix multiplications that can be performed? If so, list them.
 C*B

46) Create a row vector variable r that has 4 elements, and a column vector variable c
that has 4 elements. Perform r*c and c*r.

>> r = randi([1 10], 1, 4)

r =
3 8 2 9
>> c = randi([1 10], 4, 1)
c =
4
9
7
8
>> r*c
ans =
170
>> c*r
ans =
12 32 8 36
27 72 18 81
21 56 14 63
24 64 16 72

47) The matrix variable rainmat stores the total rainfall in inches for some districts for
the years 2014-2017. Each row has the rainfall amounts for a given district. For
example, if rainmat has the value:

>> rainmat
ans =
25 33 29 42
53 44 40 56
etc.

district 1 had 25 inches in 2014, 33 in 2015, etc. Write expression(s) that will find the
number of the district that had the highest total rainfall for the entire four year period.

>> rainmat = [25 33 29 42; 53 44 40 56];

>> large = max(max(rainmat))
large =
56
>> linind = find(rainmat== large)
linind =
8
>> floor(linind/4)
ans =
 2

48) Generate a vector of 20 random integers, each in the range from 50 to 100. Create
a variable evens that stores all of the even numbers from the vector, and a variable
odds that stores the odd numbers.

>> nums = randi([50, 100], 1, 20);

>> evens = nums(rem(nums,2)==0);
>> odds = nums(rem(nums,2)~=0);

49) Assume that the function diff does not exist. Write your own expression(s) to
accomplish the same thing for a vector.

>> vec = [5 11 2 33 -4]

vec =
5 11 2 33 -4
>> v1 = vec(2:end);
>> v2 = vec(1:end-1);
>> v1-v2
ans =
6 -9 31 -37

50) Create a vector variable vec; it can have any length. Then, write assignment
statements that would store the first half of the vector in one variable and the second
half in another. Make sure that your assignment statements are general, and work
whether vec has an even or odd number of elements (Hint: use a rounding function
such as fix).

>> vec = 1:9;

>> fhalf = vec(1:fix(length(vec)/2))
fhalf =
1 2 3 4
>> shalf = vec(fix(length(vec)/2)+1:end)
shalf =
5 6 7 8 9
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 "I knew that I’d make you leave your work," he cried.
"Oh! it was a sell!" cried the shop-girls, with a laugh, while Robineau
gazed sadly at the ruins of his preserve dish and murmured:
"Yes, it’s a very pretty scheme! But I won’t entrust any more of my dishes
to this fellow."
The girls laughed uproariously; the young clerk was already talking with
Mademoiselle Thénaïs, and Robineau was about to approach Fifine, when
there was a cry of "Here’s madame!" whereupon the young milliners
vanished like a flock of swallows, and the young men were once more
alone in the passage.
"Well! now they have gone back again!" said Robineau.
"I told Thénaïs what I wanted to tell her," replied the other; and he left the
house, enchanted with his ruse, while Robineau, who was minus a plate and
preserve dish, and had not even spoken to Fifine, went upstairs to his room,
consigning clerks and milliners to the devil. He arranged once more all the
component parts of his costume, and had almost determined to go out to
buy some silk stockings, when he heard two little taps at his door, and
Mademoiselle Fifine appeared at last.
Fifine was a buxom, jovial wench of twenty-four, whose coloring was a
little high, whose fair hair was of rather a doubtful shade, whose eyes were
a little too prominent, and whose figure was a little too short; but there was
a touch of decision in her manner which indicated a young woman of
character, whom one might have taken for a roisterer, had she worn
trousers.
"Well! what’s in the wind, my friend? What’s all this business of smashing
dishes in order to see us? Dieu! what extravagance indeed! The girls called
that very gallant!"
As she spoke, Fifine threw herself on a couch opposite the bed, and
continued to eat cherries, which she carried in a handkerchief.
"If you think that it was an invention of mine, you are much mistaken!"
rejoined Robineau sourly; "it was that little clerk, who, without a word to
me—Don’t throw your stones all over my room, I beg you."
"I’ll sweep your room! Mon Dieu! Monsieur Neatness! Pray take care! he
would rather have me swallow the stones, no matter what the result might
be—eh, my dear friend?—What on earth is the matter with you to-night,
Raoul? your nose is longer than usual; have you some secret trouble?"
"Oh! it’s nothing to laugh at."
"Well, I’m not inclined to cry. If you want me to cry, play me an act of
melodrama; play me Monsieur Truguelin in Cœlina. When you come to the
suicide, I’ll throw a cherry-stone at you."
"Come, Fifine, let us talk sense, I beg you."
"Come then and sit down beside me, so that I can pinch you. You see, I
feel tremendously like pinching something to-night."
"I have no time to fool."
"Dieu! how agreeable this lover of mine is!"
"I am going to a reception this evening at my intimate friend Alfred de
Marcey’s, son of the Baron de Marcey, who has nearly a hundred thousand
francs a year."
"Ah! so that’s the reason one can’t look you in the face, and the reason
you threw your dishes downstairs. Exactly! when one visits a baron, one
shouldn’t eat next day. You’ve grown two inches already."
"Fifine, listen to me, I entreat you!"
"Are you going to cry?"
"To go to the Baron de Marcey’s, I must wear full evening dress."
"Ah! I see what you’re coming at—you want me to put on your curl-
papers."
"Curl-papers—I shall be glad if you will, it is true; for you do it to
perfection."
"Ah! the lion is quieting down!"
"But there is something else of which I am in urgent need, and that is my
black silk stockings, which I lent you the last Sunday that it rained."
"Your silk stockings?"
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"The deuce! but they’re a long way off, if they’re still going!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that I lent them to Fœdora, to play in private theatricals, and she
admitted that she let her best friend wear them the next day, to a wedding;
but as his calves are exceptionally big, he ripped a few stitches when he
took them off."
"Mon Dieu! this is what comes of lending your things!"
"Is a person to presume that her lover will ask her to return what he lends
her?"
"Mademoiselle, I am not a capitalist, a dealer in novelties. I have never
pretended to play the grand seigneur with you."
"Oh! anyone can see that!—Catch it, Raoul."
"Don’t throw cherry-stones at me, please.—What am I to do? It’s eight
o’clock already; to be sure, I know that people go very late to large
receptions."
"Sometimes they don’t go till the next day; it’s more comme il faut."
"But I counted on those stockings."
"You must buy some more; there’s a place across the street where they sell
them."
"Buy some? Oh, yes! that’s very easy to say.—You shouldn’t have made
me spend twelve francs at the restaurant last Sunday."
"We will spend fifteen next Sunday, my dear friend."
"You always want to eat the things that cost most."
"Nothing’s too good for me."
"Well, if I buy stockings, it’s adieu to our country excursion for Sunday, I
warn you."
"That begins to move me.—Come, be calm, loulou; you’re very lucky to
have a sweetheart with some imagination. Stay here and begin to dress at
the top; I’ll go to look after the lower part!"[1]
"Oh! my dear Fifine, how good you will be to do that!"
"Give me five or six sheets of note paper—vellum."
"Here they are; as it happens, I have just brought some home from my
office. Do you want some sealing-wax—three sticks?"
"Yes, yes, give it to me; I secure madame’s good graces with these things;
otherwise she wouldn’t have let me come away so early; but I said that I
had a sick-headache, and as I’m her favorite, she said: ‘Go upstairs to bed.’"
Fifine took the paper and sealing-wax, and skipped out of Robineau’s
room; whereupon he began to undress, saying to himself:
 "She is really an excellent girl, and as bright as a button, this Fifine! She’s
a little hasty, and a bit of a glutton; but still she is mad over me and would
jump into the fire for me. She has refused marquises, beet-sugar
manufacturers and brokers for me; and yet I simply take her out on Sundays
—that’s all. She isn’t like Monsieur Edouard’s sempstress, who left him for
an Englishman.—Ha! ha! I am not so very sorry, for he seems rather
inclined to put on airs. He has about three thousand francs a year, I believe;
that’s not so much! But he writes plays, opéra-comiques, vaudevilles—that
is to say, fragments of vaudevilles.—Mon Dieu! if I had the time, I would
write plays, too; and I flatter myself they’d be done rather better than his.
But when a man has to be at his desk from nine o’clock till four, and always
working, how is he to cultivate the Muses? When I am chief of a bureau, or
even deputy chief, then it will be different—I shall have some time to
myself. That Alfred’s the lucky fellow! An only son, his father a baron, and
about a hundred thousand francs a year!—And just see how it all came
about: Alfred lost his mother when he was very young; his father married
again some years later, and might have had other children; but he didn’t;
instead of that, his wife, whom he adored, died three years after their
marriage, and the baron, overwhelmed with grief by the loss of his second
wife, swore that he would never marry again; and he has kept his oath,
although he is still a young man.—How well it has all turned out for Alfred!
Dieu! nothing like that will ever happen to me! And yet I have an uncle
somewhere or other, careering round the world, according to what my
mother told me before she died; an uncle who was determined to make his
fortune, and who started for the Indies, or Peru—in fact, no one knows
where. But psha! he has probably tried to leap Niagara! It’s only on the
stage that uncles arrive just in time for the dénouement, in order to save
innocence from going to prison. After all, I am not ambitious—I’m a
philosopher, I am satisfied with what I have. If I had some silk stockings,
though, I should be even better satisfied. But just let a fortune fall into my
hands, and people will see how coolly, how phlegmatically I will receive it.
—Well! here I am all undressed, and Mademoiselle Fifine doesn’t return.—
I can’t put on my cravat before my feet are shod and my hair curled.
Luckily it’s July, and I shan’t take cold."
To kill time, Robineau, being weary of walking about his room dressed
like a person who is about to make bread, concluded to take his guitar. He
had reached the second stanza of the romanza from Bélisaire, when he was
interrupted by a burst of laughter. Fifine, having left the door ajar, had
entered the room without making any noise, and was holding her sides as
she contemplated Belisarius in his shirt.
"O Dieu! how handsome you are like that, my boy!" she said, still
laughing; "I am tempted to call the girls to look at the picture."
"Call no one, I beg; although, without flattery, I believe I have a figure
that wouldn’t frighten them."
"You look like a fat Bacchus."
"Let me see the stockings, please."
"Here they are, troubadour; and I think that they’ll make a handsome leg."
And Fifine tossed a pair of black silk stockings on Robineau’s knee. He
examined them for some time, then cried:
"They’re a woman’s stockings!"
"To be sure, as it was Adeline who lent them to me."
"Men don’t wear openwork things like these."
"Bah! men wear something else, and it doesn’t prevent their dancing."
"But——"
"But these are all I could find, and it seems to me that you ought to be
well satisfied."
Robineau concluded at last to put on the stockings.
"They’ll think that it’s a new style I am trying to introduce," he said.
While he began to dress, Fifine took the guitar and hummed a tune.
"So I shan’t have any lesson to-night, my friend?"
"You must see, my dear, that it’s impossible.—They fit me very well,
these stockings—exceedingly well—it’s surprising! I have a leg that adapts
itself to anything."
"By the way, do you remember the way we behaved last night?—Well! we
had a most extraordinary scene! You know madame won’t let us read in
bed, because she’s afraid of fire."
"She is quite right; as to that, I agree with her."
"That’s all right, but we girls don’t care a fig for her orders. Last night,
after Fœdora had dictated a note to Thénaïs, and when Adeline had finished
telling us how she detected her lover’s treachery—Oh! by the way, I never
told you that story; it’s terribly funny!"
 "My dear, if you would be good enough to put on my curl-papers now, I
should——"
"The iron isn’t hot yet; it’s on the stove upstairs; no matter—give me some
tissue paper, I’ll arrange you."
"Put on fifteen."
"Why not thirty-six, like another Ninon?—Look out now, don’t move!—
Just imagine that Fidélio—that’s Adeline’s lover’s name—has a business
agency office, and always keeps pretty little maid servants, who, they say,
he’s in the habit of making love to. It’s so well known in the quarter, that
they always tell a girl of it beforehand when she enters his service, so that
she may know what to expect——"
"The iron——"
"Nonsense! don’t bother me with your iron!—Adeline didn’t know all
that. The rascal had introduced himself to her under a false name. Ah! what
villains men are! Instead of putting on curl-papers for you, I ought to tear
all your hairs out, one by one!"
"Fifine—I beg you——"
"Don’t move.—But that isn’t all: Monsieur Fidélio, not satisfied with
having a pretty blonde of twenty in his service, was making love to a
married woman; and this married woman, it seems——"
"You are pulling my hair!"
"Oh! that, you know, is very bad! That a woman who is free should do
what she pleases—that’s all right. But one either is bound or one isn’t—
that’s all I know; that is to say, unless the husband’s a tyrant or a miser."
"It’s after nine o’clock, Fifine!"
"What’s the odds? you will have time enough to make conquests.—Now
then, the servant noticed that the lady came very often to see Fidélio on
business, and that Fidélio, instead of being pleasant with his maid, as he
usually was, did nothing but scold her. But one can be a servant and still
have lively passions; such things have been known. To revenge herself, the
girl goes one fine day to the lady’s husband and offers to make him a
witness of a meeting between his wife and her man of business. The
husband was frantic; he accepted, sent for a cab, and got in with the little
blonde, who was to tell the driver to stop at the proper time. But on the way
—and this is the funniest part of it!—the husband began to find the little
maid much to his liking and proposed to transfer his passion to her.—‘We
are both deceived,’ says he; ‘let’s take our revenge together.’—She didn’t
take to that scheme; she resisted and the man persisted. Tired of being urged
by him,—he had entirely forgotten his wife,—she told the coachman to
stop, opened the door, and jumped out of the cab. The gentleman jumped
after her and broke his nose on the ground. The girl, to escape his
attentions, entered the first house she came to. It happened to be ours; and
who do you suppose she found in the passage?—who but Fidélio colloguing
with Adeline!—Then there was an explosion, explanation, confusion, and
——"
"The iron must be red hot!"
"I’ll go and fetch it; but if it isn’t hot, I won’t come down again."
Robineau looked at himself in the mirror, saying:
"When Fifine is in the mood for chattering, there’s no way to stop her. But
she puts on curl-papers like an angel; I shall have the best dressed hair at
the ball."
Fifine returned, carrying the curling-iron, smoking hot.
"Come quick; it isn’t too hot."
"It looks all red to me. My dear love, be careful not to burn me, I beseech
you."
"Dieu! he’s a perfect little lamb when he’s frightened!—To return to our
scene of last night: we had just gone to bed, and I was reading—because,
without flattering myself, I am the best reader. Auguste had lent us the
Barons von Felsheim, and we were devouring it—that is the word—when,
in the middle of a charming chapter, someone knocked at our door, and we
heard madame’s voice calling:—‘Mesdemoiselles, why have you a light
burning so late?’—At that the most profound silence replaced our bursts of
laughter, and to hide the light,—for we didn’t propose to put it out—it
occurred to me to put a vessel—you know, a night vessel,—over the candle-
stick. That worked very well; she couldn’t see anything. Madame called
again, and we didn’t answer. Then madame went away; and when we
thought she was back in her room, I took off the protecting vessel.—What
do you suppose? The light was really out. We were in despair; we didn’t
feel like sleeping, and we didn’t want to be left in the middle of a very
interesting chapter, in which there’s something about truffles—and not a
match, because we haven’t as yet saved up a sufficient sum to purchase that
commodity, for milliner’s apprentices aren’t in the habit of patronizing
savings banks. However, we were determined to have a light, and for my
own part, I would have gone out and unhooked the street lantern rather than
not finish my chapter. Just at that moment we heard your guitar and your
voice. Ah! my dear, you have no idea of the effect that produced on us! You
were an Orpheus, a demigod!—‘Not in bed yet!’ we shouted all together,
and in an instant I was out of bed; I put on the petticoat of modesty, because
love of reading shouldn’t carry one so far as to go about naked, and I ran to
the door and opened it; but I hadn’t taken two steps on the landing when I
felt someone seize my arm, and madame, who was watching at the door,
cried:
"‘Aha! so this is the way you sleep, mesdemoiselles! But I propose to find
out who it is that dares to leave the room in spite of my orders—to light her
candle, I suppose.—I knew too much to make any answer. Madame called
to Julie to come up with a light. I got away from her; and while she stood in
the doorway to keep me from going back, I ran down to her apartment, put
out the candles, and threw the matches out of the window. So madame
couldn’t find out who it was that came out, and we passed the time feeling
around for each other.—There! your hair’s all done, my friend."
"Thank God!—I remember that you made noise enough.—I must wait till
they’re cold before I take them off.—Fifine! you’re a perfect devil! But no
matter—I love you sincerely, and if I should ever be rich like Alfred——"
"Ah! then we should see some fine things, shouldn’t we?"
"Yes; you would see—In the first place, wealth wouldn’t make me any
different; it’s so absurd to be proud and self-satisfied just because one has a
few more yellow boys in one’s pocket! Does it increase one’s merit? I ask
you that, Fifine?"
"It is certain that if you were a millionaire, your eyes wouldn’t be any
larger."
"Bah! unkind girl! they are large enough to admire you.—Oh! stop that!"
"I have never heard you speak of this Alfred, whose party you are going
to."
"He’s a boarding-school friend; he always used to play leap-frog with me.
Since then, we have rather lost sight of each other; he is always in his
carriage or in the saddle, and I go on foot."
"That’s better for the health."
 "Well, with all his fortune Alfred is bored. Anyone can see that he doesn’t
know what to do with himself. He is weary of pleasure; and then, he’s a
rake, a libertine, a man incapable of true love."
"For a friend of yours, you give him a pretty character!"
"A friend of mine! oh! simply a boarding-school acquaintance, I tell you."
"Is he good-looking?"
"Yes, rather; that is to say, an ordinary face, but already worn and lined."
"Introduce him to me."
Robineau rose with an offended air and went to the mirror to remove his
curl-papers.
"If I knew that he would make you happy, mademoiselle," he said, "I
certainly would not hesitate! But I doubt if you would find in Alfred the
profound and sincere affection which I feel for you."
"Dieu! my friend, how you do adore me to-night!"
"Because I’ve no carriage, you talk jestingly of abandoning me. But just
let me get wealthy, and my only revenge will be to give you a magnificent
country house."
"You must supply it with rabbits, understand, because I am very fond of
rabbit stew. But meantime, while monsieur goes to his dance, I’m going to
trim a cap."
"Downstairs?"
"No, upstairs."
"Is the shop closed already?"
"What, at nine o’clock? Don’t you follow the example of those evil
tongues across the street, who say that the best part of our business is done
when the shop is closed. Pretty shopkeepers they are, to talk about other
people! The chief partner is bargaining for a place as box-opener at a
theatre."
"There! How does my hair look?"
"Delicious, my friend! You’ll suffocate all rivals."
"Oh! all I care for is to be decent, presentable. You see, I make no
pretensions."
"That is why you stand hours in front of your glass, practising smiles."
"For you alone, Fifine.—Ah! now where are my gloves?"
 "I say, there’ll be a supper, no doubt, where you’re going? Bring me
something."
"You expect me to put ices in my pocket, I suppose?"
"There’ll be other things besides ices; I want you to bring me some
sweetmeats, or I’ll never put on curl-papers for you again."
"All right—we will see."
"Is monsieur going very far?"
"Rue du Helder."
"The milords’ quarter!—You mean to take a cab, no doubt?"
"I surely shan’t go on foot in this costume.—Let me see—it’s half past
nine; I shall be at the Baron de Marcey’s at quarter to ten. That will do."
"Then it wasn’t worth while to make such a terrible fuss, my friend."
"There’s a cabstand almost in front of the house. I wonder if you would be
kind enough to go down with me and call one?"
"That’s it; the only thing left for me to do will be to ride behind. But no
matter; this is one of my good-natured days; forward!"
Robineau locked his door; Fifine went downstairs with him and called a
cab, into which Robineau jumped after pressing the young milliner’s hand
affectionately. She watched him go and called to him once more:
"Don’t forget to bring me something good!"
 III

RECEPTION AT THE BARON DE MARCEY’S.--A

SUPPER PARTY OF YOUNG MEN AND ITS
RESULTS
The cab halted in front of a handsome hôtel. There was a long line of
private carriages waiting to enter the courtyard; one would have thought
that they were taking their owners to the Bouffes, or to see the English
actors. There is not so large an audience at the Français when they are
playing Molière or Racine; but our actors have not made a special study of
the death agony of a moribund; they do not exhibit to us all the dying
convulsions of a man who is being murdered, nor make us hear all the
hiccoughs of a princess who is starving to death; those pretty little episodes
are very pleasant to witness, they excite the nerves of people who need such
tableaux to arouse the slightest emotion. And yet there are some people who
claim that it is more difficult to act well a scene from Tartufe or Le
Misanthrope, than to imitate a scene from the Place de Grève. But let us
allow every one to follow his or her taste, and let us be content to
congratulate him who still enjoys a play that does not last forty years, and
who is moved by a scene in which no one dies.
When he saw the throng of carriages and the brilliantly lighted salons,
Robineau said to himself:
"This will be a very numerous, very fashionable and very well assorted
affair!"
He at once alighted from his cab, and hurried toward the entrance, passing
his hand over his curls and putting on his second glove. Then he went up to
the first floor, reflecting thus:
"After all, I am as good as all these people—better perhaps. Even if they
do have carriages—what difference does it make to me?"
Robineau said this to himself in order that he might not seem embarrassed
and intimidated when he entered the salons; but it did not prevent his being
red of face and stiff and awkward when he found himself in the midst of the
guests, where he vainly sought Alfred for some time. At last his friend came
to him, and, taking his arm, began by indulging in some jesting remarks
concerning divers persons present. This gave Robineau time to recover
himself; he resumed his self-assurance, his customary smile, and began to
cast his eyes upon the ladies, thinking only of making conquests.
"By the way, your father, Monsieur le Baron de Marcey—I have not yet
had the honor of paying my respects to him," said Robineau, as he gazed
admiringly at some very pretty young ladies who had just entered the salon.
"My father has seen you before; must I present you to him again? It’s the
same ceremony every time!"
"It’s a long time since he saw me, my dear fellow, and——"
"That makes no difference; you have one of those faces that no one ever
forgets."
As he spoke, Alfred walked away to speak to some ladies, and Robineau
murmured:
"I certainly have a face that—I wonder if he meant that for an epigram?
that would be very becoming in him.—Ah! there is Monsieur de Marcey."
A man of some forty-eight years was passing Robineau at that moment; he
was of tall stature and his carriage was noble and imposing; his strongly
marked features were still very handsome, although they seemed to be
already fatigued by too intense emotions rather than by years. He was a
little bald in front, although his hair was still dark; lastly, his face was
habitually serious and almost stern. But to those persons who could read his
countenance more understandingly, the expression of his somewhat sombre
glance was rather melancholy than severe. However, his black eyes grew
softer, and a faint smile played about his lips whenever he looked at his son.
Such was the Baron de Marcey.
"Monsieur de Marcey,—I have the honor—I am much flattered——"
The baron glanced at Robineau for an instant, then exclaimed:
"Ah! this is Monsieur Robineau, I believe?"
"Yes, monsieur, an intimate friend of your son, who invited me to come;
and I took advantage of——"
"My son’s friends will always be mine, monsieur, and they confer a favor
on me by coming to my house."
 As he spoke, Monsieur de Marcey bowed to Robineau, and passed on to
speak with other guests, while the government clerk puffed himself up and
sauntered through the throng, saying to himself:
"Monsieur de Marcey is always extremely amiable to me; indeed I
consider him more amiable than his son, because he hasn’t always that
mocking air.—Ah! there’s the music; they are going to dance. I think I will
dance, too; but with a pretty woman, for I can never keep in step with an
ugly one,—it’s no use for me to try."
The orchestra had given the signal; one of Tolbecque’s lovely strains drew
the dancers together from all sides, and charmed the ears of those who did
not dance, but who, as they watched beauty and innocence chasser and
balancer, listened with delight to airs selected from our best composers’
prettiest operas.
Robineau addressed himself too late to several comely young ladies who
were already engaged; he was forced to take a partner who had naught in
her favor save her youth and a very stylish costume. He heard somebody
call her madame la comtesse, and that made him desirous to distinguish
himself as her partner; but she seemed to pay very little heed to his airs and
graces, and replied only by monosyllables to the complimentary remarks he
addressed to her.
"She’s a prude!" Robineau muttered, after he had escorted the countess to
her seat; and he proceeded to invite a very attractive young person to whom
also he essayed to play the amiable; but she contented herself with smiling
at what he said to her, and seemed wholly intent on the dance.
"She’s a fool!" thought Robineau, as he carried his homage elsewhere. But
finding that he created no sensation, despite his energetic movements and
the smiles he lavished on his partners, he left the ball-room.
"After all," he muttered, "among all these fine ladies there isn’t one who
comes up to Fifine! And if Fifine had a tulle gown, and a wreath in her hair,
and some of those great bracelets with antique cameos—ah! what a
sensation she’d make!—I’ll take a look at the écarté table. I will carelessly
bet a five-franc piece.—Ah! the deuce! there are ices; I’ll begin by seizing
one on the wing."
Robineau took an ice, and, in order to eat in comfort, seated himself
behind two gentlemen of mature years, who were talking together in a small
salon between the ball-room and the card-room.
 "How he has changed!" observed one of the two gentlemen, looking at
Monsieur de Marcey, who happened to pass through the salon.
"Changed! whom do you mean?"
"De Marcey."
"Oh! do you think so?"
"If you had known De Marcey twenty-five years ago, as I did, my dear
Dolmont——"
"Parbleu! that’s just it—twenty-five years ago; and it seems to you that it
was only yesterday—and that he ought to appear the same to-day."
"No, no, I don’t say that.—Dear De Marcey! We made the Austerlitz
campaign together."
"Oho! were you at Austerlitz?"
"Yes, indeed; I am proud to say that I was; and I have been in almost
every battle that has been fought since. Now, I am resting."
Robineau took his eyes from his vanilla ice for an instant, to look at the
speaker. He saw a man of fifty, whose frank and intelligent face bore more
than one scar; his buttonhole was decorated with several orders, and
Robineau said to himself:
"This gentleman has well earned his decorations—that is sure!"
"To be sure," rejoined the old soldier’s companion a moment later, "De
Marcey is not old; he entered the service early in life, as you did; but so
many things have happened since that it always seems as if centuries had
passed over our heads."
"For my part, when I think of my campaigns, it seems as if it had all
happened no longer ago than yesterday, for I fancy that I am still in the
field!"
"He is like me," thought Robineau, "when I think of my first fancy. And
yet it was ten years ago. She was a figurante at the Porte-Saint-Martin, and
on the day of our first rendezvous we dined at the Vendanges de Bourgogne,
Faubourg du Temple. It wasn’t a fashionable restaurant then as it is to-day,
and there was no canal to cross to get there; but they served delicious
sheep’s-trotters. It seems to me that I am there still. I was eighteen years old
then. Ah me! one grows old without perceiving it!"
And Robineau heaved a sigh—which did not prevent his finishing his ice.
 "When I say, Dolmont, that De Marcey seems changed to me, I refer to his
temperament rather than to his physical aspect. If you had known him long
ago—he was always in high spirits and a jovial companion; he used to
laugh and joke with us. He was fond of the ladies—oh! he was a great
lady’s man. But he was jealous of his mistresses, very jealous! I recall that
on various occasions that tendency led him into quarrels; and indeed it was
on account of it, I believe, that they married him at twenty-three to a young
lady for whom he cared very little. His parents maintained that, with his
jealous disposition, if he married for love he would be unhappy. And in fact
his marriage began very auspiciously. I knew De Marcey’s first wife; she
was a very attractive woman, and I believe that she would have made her
husband very happy; unfortunately she died, a year after giving birth to a
son. I learned that De Marcey married again after six years; but I was not in
Paris then, and De Marcey had left the army. I never knew his second wife."
"He didn’t marry the second time in Paris, but somewhere in the
neighborhood of Bordeaux. It seems that his wife’s family had an estate
there, and the marriage took place on that property. Indeed, I think that he
did not return to Paris with his wife until long after his second marriage."
"And what sort of person was his second wife?"
"Charming! One of those exquisite faces such as the painters succeed in
producing occasionally, but which we see much less frequently in the
world."
"The deuce!"
"But she had a sad, melancholy air; when she smiled, the smile seemed to
conceal a secret grief. I never saw her dance, although she was very young,
eighteen at most; but she seemed to shun the pleasures suited to her age,
and to go into society solely to please her husband."
"And De Marcey was very fond of her?"
"Oh! he adored her; he seized every opportunity of giving her pleasure.
He was untiring in his devotion to her."
"Did he have any children by her?"
"No; but the lovely Adèle—that was the second wife’s name—loved little
Alfred dearly, and manifested all a mother’s affection for him. She died
after three years; De Marcey’s grief was so violent that for a long time his
life was in danger. At last, the sight of his son, meditation, lapse of time
——"
 "Yes, time! that is the all-powerful remedy. But for all that, I am no longer
surprised that his humor is so changed from what it was! One may
overcome the most profound sorrow, but it always leaves its traces. It is like
the severe wounds, which heal, but of which one always carries the scars."
With that the old soldier rose, his companion did the same, leaving
Robineau alone on his chair, which he at once quitted, saying to himself:
"It is very entertaining to listen to other people’s conversation, and it’s
instructive, too; you seem to be paying no attention, but you listen;
especially when people talk loud, for that means that they are not saying
anything that they wish to conceal. Ah! I must listen to the conversation of
some of the ladies; that will be even more amusing, because they always
sprinkle their talk with wit; when I say always, I mean of course those who
have wit.—Yonder are two ladies who seem to be engaged in a most
interesting conversation, for they are talking with great animation. There’s a
vacant chair beside them."
Robineau nonchalantly took his seat beside two pretty women, and turning
his ear toward them as if without design, caught some fragments of their
conversation.
"Yes, my dear love, I judged him rightly. I was wise, as you see, to distrust
his protestations of love, his ardent oaths, his profound sighs! And yet you
cannot conceive with what an air of sincerity he told me that he proposed to
be virtuous and faithful henceforth, and to love no one but me! It is ghastly
to lie like that!"
Robineau turned his head so that he could see the speaker’s face; and he
saw a lovely brunette, whose vivacious and intelligent features expressed at
that moment a sentiment of vexation which she tried to conceal beneath a
forced smile.
"My dear Jenny, I believe that you are a little annoyed because you put
Alfred’s love to the proof."
"Annoyed! on the contrary, I am delighted. I did not believe in it for an
instant; his reputation with respect to women is too well established for
——"
At that point she lowered her voice and Robineau could not hear the rest
of her sentence; but he thought:
"They are talking about Alfred—this is delightful!—She is a person he has
been making love to, no doubt. Gad! how amusing it is!"
 The other lady, who also was young and pretty, replied after a moment:
"I am inclined to think that I should have more confidence in his friend,
Monsieur Edouard Beaumont; he has a less frivolous, less heedless air than
Alfred; and he is very good-looking, is Edouard; he has a very pretty
figure."
"Mon Dieu! my dear love, I’ll wager that he is no better than other men. It
is safer to distrust those cold, reserved manners, too. Nobody is worse than
such men, when it comes to deceiving us poor women. With a scapegrace
who makes no pretence of concealing what he is, one knows what to expect
at all events."
"And that is why you have a weakness for Alfred, I suppose?"
"Oh! never! never! I laughed at his oaths of love. Perhaps it amused me a
little to listen to him.—But, although he is agreeable and bright—as to
loving him, oh! I promise you that I never dreamed of such a thing. Pray do
not think that!"
"If you defend yourself so eagerly, Jenny, I shall end by believing that you
adore him."
"Oh! upon my word, I——"
She lowered her voice again. Robineau tilted his chair a little in order to
hear; but for several minutes the two friends spoke in such low tones that he
could not catch a word. At last the charming Jenny observed aloud:
"You did well, very well. I am sure that it puzzles him tremendously to see
us talking together, for he thought that we were at odds. Did he never talk to
you about me?"
"Why, no; he talked about nobody but myself."
"Ah, yes! of course. I assure you, Clara, that I shall remain a widow; I
shall never marry again!"
"Can anyone be sure of that, my dear? Remember that you are only
twenty-two years old."
"An additional reason for not endangering the happiness of my life. Is not
what I have known of marriage likely to make me avoid it? Monsieur de
Gerville married me when I was eighteen, having never paid court to me;
without any idea whether I liked him or not, he asked my parents for my
hand. He was rich, so they gave me to him. However, Monsieur de Gerville
was young and good-looking. I might have loved him if he had taken the
trouble to try to win my love, if he had simply tried to make me think that
he loved me. I was such a little idiot then! I believed whatever anyone
chose. But no—I was his wife, and he would have considered that he
disgraced himself by making love to me, by paying me any attention. He
had two or three mistresses who deceived him; but that was much better
than loving his wife, who did not deceive him. However, he is dead, and it
is my duty to forget the suffering he caused me; but I confess that that taste
of married life left me with a very poor opinion of men in general. I believe
them to be, as a rule, selfish, inconstant, unjust to women: they must have
everything, and we must do without everything; they are pleased to be
unfaithful, but they demand constancy from us; they are good-humored so
long as we are fortunate enough to please them, but as soon as they begin to
sigh for another woman, they do not give us another thought; instead of
trying to conceal their unfaithfulness by redoubling their attentions and
consideration for us, they become sulky, capricious, bad-tempered; and if
we are so unfortunate as to manifest any regret at the change in their
treatment of us, they accuse us of being jealous and exacting!"
"O Jenny! Jenny!"
"You will find out, my dear Clara, that it is all true. In fact, what happy
couples can you mention? Only those where the wives close their eyes to
their husbands’ infidelities. Oh! when we let them do whatever they choose,
go in and out and run after other women, without ever calling them to
account for their actions, then we are what they call good wives, and they
deign to offer us an arm once a month."
"I see that Alfred’s inconstancy has soured you!"
"What do I care for Monsieur Alfred’s inconstancy? I tell you again, I
listened to him only for the fun of it, and I never took his declarations of
love seriously. However, I am very glad that I know—that I conceived the
idea of——"
Here they lowered their voices once more; and as they had reached a very
interesting point, and as Robineau was most desirous to learn what the idea
was that had occurred to Madame de Gerville, he tilted his chair a little
more in the hope of hearing. But the weight of his body overturned it, and
before he could recover himself, he rolled at the feet of the two friends.
As they had paid no attention to their neighbor, they were not a little
surprised when that gentleman fell almost on their laps. But Robineau rose
hastily, stammered an apology and walked away, muttering:
"They polish their floors a great deal too much! It’s almost too slippery to
stand up! I don’t understand why all the dancers don’t fall on top of one
another. To be sure, they walk instead of dancing.—Curse that chair! I was
just going to learn the idea of that pretty brunette—Madame Jenny de
Gerville. I will remember the name, and I’ll drive Alfred crazy. Ah! it’s very
amusing!"
Robineau returned to the ball-room and looked about for other groups of
people conversing. He heard laughter near at hand, and found that it came
from two ladies who were not dancing; there happened to be a vacant chair
behind them and Robineau took possession of it.
"These ladies are laughing," he said to himself; "I’ll wager that they are
making fun of some other women among the company. I mustn’t miss this!
I didn’t have time to look at them, but I will scrutinize them when they turn.
—Attention!"
"Oh! what a ridiculous creature that man must be, and how I would have
liked to see him dancing with you! You must point him out to me when you
see him."
"Oh, yes! never fear; he is easily recognizable. I can’t imagine where
Monsieur de Marcey found him!"
"Good!" thought Robineau; "they are making fun of someone—I was sure
of it."
And he moved nearer to them, taking care not to tilt his chair.
"Just imagine, my dear love, a short, fat, heavy, awkward man, with a big
nose, stupid little eyes, lips that he presses together when he talks, and hair
curled so tight that he looks like a negro!"
"Ha! ha! ha!"
"And with it all, such a pretentious manner! He asked me to dance—they
were just forming for the first contra-dance; I accepted, and during the
dance he tried to play the amiable, but he had nothing to say except the
most commonplace things, all so flat and wornout that it made me very
sorry for him!—When he found that I made no reply to those entertaining
remarks, he took the liberty to squeeze my hand while we were dancing!—
Ha! ha! ha!"
 At that point, the lady who was speaking turned, and Robineau recognized
the countess with whom he had danced the first contra-dance. The blood
rushed to his face. Meanwhile, the lady, who instantly recognized the
gentleman of whom she was speaking, with difficulty restrained an
inclination to laugh, and gently touched her friend’s knee. But before the
latter had time to turn, Robineau was already far away. He was beside
himself with rage, and glared furiously about, muttering:
"Well, upon my word! that woman must be a great joker! I don’t know
whether it was I she was talking about, but in any event, I hope she may
find many of my kind!—But she’s too ugly to have any attention.—To say
that I squeezed her hand! that is false! These ugly women are forever
slandering us men; it’s because they are furious at not finding any lovers."
Having lost his desire to listen to conversations, Robineau bent his steps
toward the card-room, making such a horrible grimace that Alfred, meeting
him beside one of the tables, stopped him and said:
"Mon Dieu! what a face you are making, my dear Robineau! Have you
been having hard luck?"
"I have lost three hundred francs!"
"That’s nothing; you will win them back." And Alfred walked away, while
Robineau said to himself:
"He takes things easily! That’s nothing, he says! If I had lost three
hundred francs, I should never get over it! But I am very sure not to lose
any such sum, as I have only twenty-one francs fifty. I must risk that. I will
try to win; but they say that it isn’t very prudent to play écarté at these large
parties. However, at Monsieur le Baron de Marcey’s there can’t be any but
honest people. No matter; I am going to bet on the one who is winning—
that’s the best thing to do.—Who is having the luck?" asked Robineau as he
drew near the card-table.
Unluckily for him, the luck changed; in a very short time he lost his
twenty-one francs. Thereupon, making every effort to conceal his ill-humor,
he turned away from the table.
"Good-bye to the trip into the country and the dinner at the restaurant on
Sunday!" he thought. "Fifine will have to dine at her aunt’s, and I will play
the guitar. It was well worth while for me to put myself out, dress in my
best clothes and hire a cab, to come to a grand party!—It is very amusing,
isn’t it? Women who laugh at you; men who stare at you as if they would