ished his report, he must draw another, not so
unfavorable."

"How can that be?"

The baron stared at him in amazement.

"Come, come, you're losing your hold! Why, by giving him one, two, three
hundred thousand francs, if necessary."

"What do you mean? Le Merquier, that upright man--'My conscience,' as he
is called."

At that, Hemerlingue fairly roared with laughter, which echoed among the
recesses of the neighboring mausoleums, little wonted to such lack of
respect.

"'My conscience,' 'an upright man,' Ah! you amuse me. Can it be that you
don't know that that conscience belongs to me, and that--"

He checked himself and looked behind, a little disturbed by a noise he
heard.

"Listen."

It was the echo of his laughter, tossed back from the depths of a tomb,
as if that idea of Le Merquier's conscience amused even the dead.

"Suppose we walk a little," he said, "it begins to feel cold on this
bench."

Thereupon, as they walked among the tombs, he explained to him with a
certain pedantic conceit that in France bribes played as important a
part as in the Orient. Only more ceremony was used here. "Take Le
Merquier for instance. Instead of giving him your money outright in a
big purse as you would do with a _seraskier_, you beat around the bush.
The fellow likes pictures. He is always trading with Schwalbach, who
uses him as a bait to catch Catholic customers. Very good! you offer him
a picture, a souvenir to hang on a panel in his cabinet. It all depends
on getting your money's worth. However, you shall see. I'll take you to
him myself. I'll show you how the thing is done."

And, delighted to observe the wonderment of the Nabob, who exaggerated
his surprise in order to flatter him, and opened his eyes admiringly,
the banker elaborated his lesson, delivering a veritable lecture upon
Parisian and worldly philosophy.

"You see, old fellow, the thing that you must be more careful about than
anything else in Paris, is keeping up appearances! You have never given
enough attention to that. You go about with your waistcoat unbuttoned,
hail fellow well met, telling your business to everybody, showing
yourself just as you are. You act as if you were in Tunis, among the
bazaars or the _souks_. That's how you got yourself into trouble, my
good Bernard."

He stopped to take breath, unable to go any farther. He had expended
more steps and more words in an hour than he usually did in a year. They
noticed then that chan