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AN EVENING WITH EACHEL. 367 So saying, she poured some absinthe into a glass of •water and drank it. They brought her a silver bowl, into which she put sugar and cherry brandy, after which she set fire to her punch, and made it blaze. Rachel — I love that blue ' flame. The Poet — It is much prettier when there is no light in. the room. Rachel — Sophie, take away the candles. Mother — Not at all ; not at all ! What an idea ! Rachel (aside*) — This is unsupportable ! Pardon, dear mother ; you are good, you are charming (kissing her) ; but I want Sophie to carry away the candles. Upon this, the poet himself took the two candles and put them under the table, which produced the effect of twilight. The mother, by turns green and blue from the glimmer of the blazing punch, leveled her eyes upon De Musset, and watched all his movements. He put the candles back upon the table. A Flatterer — Mademoiselle Rabat was not beautiful this evening. The Poet — You are hard to please. I thought her pretty enough. Another Flatterer — She has no intelligence. Rachel — Why do you say that ? She is not so stupid as many others ; and, besides, she is a good girl. Let her alone. I do not like to have my comrades spoken of in that way. The punch was ready. Rachel filled the glasses and handed them about to the company. She poured the rest of the punch into a soup plate, and began to drink it with a spoon. Then she took the poet's cane, drew the sword from it, and picked her teeth with the point. Here ended, for that evening, all common talk and child's play. A single word sufficed to change the char- acter of the scene, and to convert this unformed child into an artist.