THE ACTRESS'S BOUDOIR.

BY CHARLES HERVEY, ESQ.

"MADAME est-elle de retour, Julie ?"

"Oui, monsieur, elle vous attend ;" was the reply of a neatly dressed, middle-aged bonne to her interrogator, a young and handsome man, who, after divesting himself of his cloak, the exterior of which bore evident traces of the thick November night-fog to which it had been recently exposed, was forthwith ushered into a small but luxuriously furnished boudoir, the sanctum sanctorum of Mademoiselle Léonie, one of the prettiest ingénues in Paris.

"Te voilà, Arthur, enfin !" was the familiar welcome which greeted him as he entered; "it is nearly eleven, and I feared my note had not reached you. That tiresome régisseur insisted this morning on my playing two pieces after rehearsing six hours! Merci! Such work may do very well for Madame or Mademoiselle, but not for me, and I told him so pretty plainly. He threatened me with an amende, and I laughed in his face. Why, would you believe it? I have been regularly fined ten francs a day for the last week, simply because I invariably keep them all waiting an hour or so at the rehearsal. Que voulez-vous? Il faut bien déjeûner, n'est-ce pas ?"

Arthur's only reply was a very affectionate embrace, of which we take advantage briefly to describe the locale of our story. We have already said that this was a small room, just such a one, in fact, as French actresses delight in ; not remarkably lofty (Léonie's apartment being an entresol), but containing, nevertheless, more furniture, useful and useless (the latter predominating), than would have served for the fitting-up of a tolerably spacious drawing-room. The doors were hung with portières of the richest damask, the carpet was of the softest Aubusson, and the walls were covered with some dozen or fifteen portraits, mostly of the fair actress herself, in every variety of style, and bearing among other signatures those of Dubufe, Müller, and Léon Noël: a bust and a statuette (on each of which was inscribed "Hommage à Mademoiselle Léonie," and which were respectively placed on a scagliola pedestal and on a small gilt console attached to the wall, completed the theatrical embellishments of the room, which was still further crowded with tables and guéridons laden with Sévres china, buhl cabinets, in one of which reposed a pair of silver-mounted pistols and a handsome Turkish pipe, fauteuils and bergères in profusion, and a cage full of bright-plumaged birds, newly arrived from Havre.

The owner of all these marvels was a young and lively brunette, whose face and figure were equally prepossessing. Her eyes were small but sparkling, her nose slightly retroussé imparted an additional piquancy to her countenance, and the extreme whiteness of her teeth bore unqualified testimony to her sparing use of pralines and petits gateaux. Her figure was slightly but symmetrically formed, and there was a playful coquetry in her manner which betrayed, but by no means unpleasantly, her own perfect consciousness that the epithets daily addressed to her of ravissante, delicieuse, and the half hundred other admiring expletives with which

the French language abounds, were fully and fairly merited. Of sterling dramatic talent she possessed little or none; but her smile was so very fascinating, her gentillesse so very engaging, that the feuilletonistes, unwilling to break so pretty a butterfly on their critical wheel, shut their eyes to her defects as an actress, or, looking in her bright and sunny face, forgot them all.

In other respects Léonie was neither better nor worse than her camarades; she had contrived by the potent spell of her charms to ensnare in her toils the Comte de Chersikoff, a wealthy Russian, whose munificence had taken and furnished for her the costly apartment in the Rue Laffitte in which she dwelt, and for whom she had given up, without a sigh, all her other admirers, with one single exception, M. Arthur de Blangis, a poor but well-born cadet de famille, who has been already introduced to our readers.

"Et ton Russe ?" asked the young man, negligently, after helping himself to some pâté de foie gras and a glass of Chambertin.

"Ah! le cher homme!" replied Léonie; "I never can think of him without laughing. Fancy his sitting night after night bolt upright in his stall, horribly ennuyé, as who would not be after seeing the same piece (and such a piece!) a dozen times, but nevertheless not losing a syllable of what I say, nor once removing his lorgnon from his eye while I am on the stage! Was there ever such devotion? Figure-toi, he was here this afternoon and gave me a long lecture on the impropriety of my looking at any one but him in the theatre, as if I could keep my eyes fixed on his solemn face all night. Du reste, he is as jealous as a tiger."

"L'affreux Cosaque !" murmured Arthur.

"Luckily, he is obliged to attend a ball at the Austrian embassy this evening, and when his carriage once gets into the file he is not likely to trouble us. Julie, ma fille," continued Léonie, addressing her bonne, who, summoned by the sound of a miniature gong, at this moment entered the room. "Take away these things and bring some cigarettes."

Hardly were the remains of the supper removed when a loud ring was heard at the door.

"C'est lui!" exclaimed the alarmed ingénue. "No one else would come at this hour. What can he want? et Arthur, mon Dieu où le cacher. Ah! the balcony! he will never think of looking there. Vite, vite, never mind the rain. Et toi, Julie, cache le manteau, et ouvre au Boyard!"

A minute after the stately Russian entered the boudoir, his naturally grave countenance wearing a more than usually solemn expression. "Mademoiselle," said he, casting a scrutinising glance round the room; "you are not alone."

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My dear Count—

"Bush, do not attempt to deceive me. I know what I assert to be a fact. Your own concierge is my informant. The ball to which I had intended going being postponed I immediately drove hither to sup with you, and have ascertained that scarcely an hour ago a young man, who is frequently in the habit of visiting you, mounted to your apartment, which he has not yet quitted."

"A young man!" exclaimed Léonie, feigning the utmost amazement;

"I do not understand you; ah si, one of my camarades, the sousrégisseur, has been here with a message from the manager, but he went away immediately after he had delivered it."

"That cannot be," rejoined the Russian, "for the porter has never let him out."

"Mais enfin," remonstrated the fair, but false ingénue, "if you will not believe me, satisfy yourself."

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"I intend to do so, mademoiselle," was the reply; and the Boyard, candle in hand, commenced a minute inspection of the localities. Boudoir, salon, bed-room, dining-room, ante-chamber, and kitchen, were each in turn subjected to the most rigorous scrutiny, but in vain; nothing was discovered to warrant the suspicions of the angry Muscovite; even the cloak, which might otherwise have told a very significant tale, having been carefully stowed away by the prudent Julie in her mistress's wardrobe.

His investigation finished, the Russian began to entertain some misgivings as to the truth of the charges he had so recklessly made against la dame de ses pensées, and the imperturbable calmness with which Léonie witnessed his researches tended greatly to convince him of her innocence. Not for a moment imagining that the individual of whom he was in quest could by any possibility have taken refuge on the balcony, or, perhaps, forgetting that there was a balcony to the apartment, he did not deem it necessary to take more than a very cursory view behind the window-curtain, while the night was sufficiently wet and stormy at once to banish the idea (if such had ever entered his head) of any one being so weather-proof as to brave the torrents of rain and the cold cutting wind which poured and blew without intermission.

"Eh bien!" said he, trying to force a smile, "I fear I have been rather hasty. Do you forgive me?"

"Par exemple!" replied Léonie, "you do not deserve forgiveness after treating me thus. What have I done, mon Dieu, to deserve such accusations! Is this the reward of my affection? Oh! c'est trop fort!" and the artful syren, seeing she had the game in her own hands, began to sob and moan in a most heart-rending manner.

"Léonie, ma chère petite Léonie," cried the unfortunate Russian, who by this time had become completely ashamed of his suspicions, "pardon me, I implore you. My love for you is such that I am jealous of my own shadow. Allons, soyez gentille !"

A fresh burst of lamentations was Léonie's only reply.

"Ecoutez, Léonie, you remember the diamond and opal bracelet you admired the other day at Fossin's (here the sobs became a little less violent). Well, I have it in my pocket. Will you let me try it on? There," continued Chersikoff, "see how admirably it fits you.'

The ingénue, whose face was still partially shrouded by her handkerchief, took a sly peep at the bracelet. Apparently, the coup d'œil was satisfactory, for the sobs entirely ceased, and something not very unlike a smile stole gradually over her charming countenance.

"Eh, bien! vilain jaloux, are you satisfied?"

"Beyond my hopes," exclaimed the Boyard, kissing with rapture the tempting little hand coquettishly held out to him.

"Then leave me," rejoined Léonie, "I want repose. The emotion has been too much for me. A demain."

"A demain !" rejoined her now delighted adorer, who, however, had no sooner quitted the presence of the fair actress and descended the stairs, than he commenced upbraiding the unlucky concierge for deceiving him. "Mais, Monsieur le Comte-"

"Tais-toi, imbécile! to tell me that the young man was in Mademoiselle Léonie's apartment, when you let him out yourself."

"Pardon, Monsieur le Comte, I did not let him out, and as there has been no one but me in the loge to-night, he must be up-stairs still." "Comment?" cried the exasperated Russian, "when I have examined every hole and corner of the apartment myself."

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Perhaps monsieur forgot the balcony," suggested the porter. "The balcony," repeated Chersikoff, mechanically.

The balcony! en effet!" and without saying another word, he darted once more up the staircase, and rang violently at Léonie's door. Pushing rudely by Julie, and snatching the candle she held in her hand, he immediately made his way to the boudoir, and without taking any notice of his lady-love, who was still sitting where he had left her, drew back the curtain, and opened the window.

"Personne!" he muttered; "the scoundrel shall suffer for this. Not one sou shall he have from me on New Year's day. Pardon, ma chérie," continued the Russian, addressing himself rather confusedly to Léonie, "but I wished—that is, I-"

Say no more, Count," replied the ingénue; "I see how it is, a slight return of your jealous fit, n'est ce pas? You will think better of me some day. Good night."

And, unwilling perhaps to prolong the scene, Léonie, with a grave courtesy, quitted the room, leaving the Count to his own reflections. In another moment he was at the foot of the stairs.

"Too late, monsieur," exclaimed the porter, who was evidently on the watch for him; "hardly a minute after you had ascended the principal staircase, I pulled the cordon for the young gentleman, who slipped down the escalier de service, dripping like a drowned rat."

This time, however, the Russian's confidence in his Léonie's fidelity was not to be shaken; and, turning a deaf ear to the very plausible argument of the old Cerberus, he strode haughtily to his carriage.

"Has any one come out of this house since I have been in it ?” asked he of his coachman.

"I have seen nobody," replied Jehu, who had been indulging in a sound nap ever since his master had left him.

"Oh, les concierges, les concierges!" muttered the Count while on his way to the Grammont club; "quelle race détestable !"

"Oh, les femmes, les femmes !" ejaculated the porter, putting out his lamp, "quel bonheur d'être encore garçon !"

"Oh, les hommes, les hommes !" murmured the fair Léonie, after dismissing Julie for the night; "faut-il donc que vous soyez tous des imbéciles."

PAQUERETTE'S DEBUT-THE LAST GARLAND.

"THE departure of Louis wrought but little change in Paquerette. She had ever been remarkable for her quiet, melancholy demeanour, and therefore her love of solitude was not to be wondered at now. She seemed, however, suddenly to have thrown all the enthusiasm which she had so long expended upon her love for Louis into her profession, and laboured with such unceasing perseverance, that at the ensuing concours she shone forth the very first pupil of her class and became the idol and the pride of the professor who conducted it. It seemed as if the little family had suddenly become the especial care of Providence; for, stimulated by the natural vivacity which despite of poor Paquerette's reserve and utter abhorrence of any thing in the least resembling display, Melanie also grew more grave and studious, and to the unspeakable joy of old Françoise, was pronounced the most expert warbler of roulades and flourishes, that had been heard for some time. Fortune began to smile upon the trio-the days of loneliness and obscurity were passed, and the future seemed to brighten with each hour. But Paquerette could never be induced to forsake her lonely and desolate chamber beneath the roof. I endeavoured to persuade her to it, for I thought that it would be best to discard all memories of Louis, which might tend to encourage the morbid melancholy which I was for ever fearing would in the end seize upon her mind. But she told me frankly that she loved the little chamber because it reminded her for ever of her first interview with Louis, and that she loved to sit for hours at the casement and to gaze over the parapet where she had been used to kneel at morn and evening time. Even when, in the course of alterations and embellishments which the old hotel shortly underwent, the parapet was lowered would she breathe her hymn to the Virgin at the open casement as though he were still kneeling there and could answer by his low chant to her holy orisons.

"Time passed on. Communications from the army, at all times irregular and uncertain, seemed to us, who waited, at first, with so much anxiety to hear from Louis, to be tedious beyond endurance. At length, a letter came. It was warm and passionate. I could judge of that by the tears and blushes to which its perusal gave birth. This was followed by others at rare intervals; but I soon remarked that they produced no other effect than a brow more thoughtful than usual, and a day of more ardent and diligent study.

"The good old professor grew more and more interested in her progress, and began to wonder by what chance so sweet a voice and so rich a talent, joined to such heavenly beauty, should have remained thus long unnoticed and uncared for by the hungry entrepreneurs of small theatres, and the needy envoys from the provinces. He began soon to fear that she would become a prey to some unprincipled speculator, who would but too surely seek to turn to profit her grace and beauty; and when the good