Calmly, indifferently, carelessly, as one speaks to an old friend, I inclined over the arm of the chair and softly said in her ear—
"'Mademoiselle Laurence, where is your mother with the drum?'
"'She is dead,' she replied, in the same calm, indifferent tone.
After a little pause I again bent over the arm of the chair and whispered—
"'Mademoiselle Laurence, where is the learned dog?'
"'He has run away out into the wide world,' she answered, in the same calm tone.
"And again after a pause I leaned over the arm of the chair and whispered in her ear—
"'Mademoiselle Laurence, where is Monsieur Turlutu, the dwarf?'
"'He is with the giants on the Boulevard du Temple.' These words were just uttered—in the same easy, indifferent tone—when a serious, elderly man of commanding military appearance approached her, and announced that the carriage was waiting. Slowly rising from her seat she took his arm, and, without casting a look at me, left the company.
"When I asked our hostess, who had stood during the whole evening at the door presenting her smiles to the coming and parting guests, for the name of the young lady who had just left
