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looked at her for several moments. Then she stooped and picked up a small Pekinese puppy and offered him to Mason. “Pour toi,” she said, for the first time using the familiar form of French, the “ toi ” reserved for family and friends.
    Deeply touched, Mason realized there was no more precious gift Lisette could bestow. But she shook her head. “I couldn’t take Monsieur Fu. He’s your baby. Just let me visit him from time to time.”
    Lisette hugged the puppy to her chest. She never said another word about what had happened. But from that moment on, she became that devoted best friend Mason had never had as a child. She knew, without having to question it, that come what may, Lisette Ladoux would always be there, loving her with the fierce devotion of a true sister.
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    So it was natural, in this extraordinary situation, that Mason would race to Lisette, knowing how she must have suffered on hearing the news of her “death.”
    She used the last of her borrowed money to take an omnibus to the Cirque Fernando at the base of the Montmartre butte. Lisette would just be finishing her performance about now and would soon be walking her dogs home. Wishing to avoid a scene in the circus auditorium, Mason waited outside for her. Momentarily, she saw her friend leave the building behind her pack of leashed canines. Knowing her route, Mason stood in place, waiting for her to pass. But it was the dogs that recognized her first, barking greetings and pulling Lisette toward her. Lisette was about to scold them when she saw the object of their excitement. Her doelike brown eyes registered first shock, then recognition, then teary relief, all in an instant. Trying to keep herself from exploding with happiness, she whispered, “I’m not dreaming, am I?”
    â€œNot unless I’m dreaming, too,” Mason smiled.
    â€œBut I saw you!” Lisette cried. “They made me look at what was left of your poor swollen body!”
    â€œThat wasn’t me. That was a woman I jumped in trying to save.”
    Lisette grabbed her and began covering her face with kisses, giving her the welcome she’d so needed. “I should have known you could never do such a thing. But I thought it was you. It looked so much like you, the same coloring, the same height…. It broke my heart. How…Why…?”
    Mason pulled away. “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise. But for now, tell me what’s been going on here. I read in the paper that—”
    â€œZut!” Lisette remembered. “ Les journales! That was my fault. I was so desolate at the thought of you dying like that, so miserable, so unappreciated. I only wanted to make it up to you somehow. So I went to the papers, where they know of me from the circus, and I told them your sad story. I wanted you to have a little bit of the fame you deserved.”
    â€œFame.” The word sounded so strange in connection to her that it was jarring.
    â€œYes,” Lisette cried, “they love your paintings now! And can you believe it? I sold three of them!”
    â€œYou sold my paintings?”
    â€œYou can’t believe how eager people were to buy them. I sold them for five hundred francs each!”
    Mason had to pinch herself. Five hundred francs!
    â€œThe galleries are fighting to represent you. I gave the rest of them to Falconier because he offered the best terms. He bought back the three I sold and he was hoping to show them all the day after tomorrow.”
    â€œMy own show?” Mason took a moment to savor the idea. “But all this attention…it’s because they think I’m dead, right?”
    Lisette shrugged. “I suppose. The story has swept the city. You know how we French love a romantic tragedy.”
    â€œBut will they still be interested once they know I’m alive?”
    â€œWe’ll soon see, no?”
    But Mason’s mind was charging ahead.