lease. You have
long teeth, young man; we must file them a bit."

They exchanged these words as they walked along, pushed by the crowd
which flocked like sheep through the door of exit. Moessard stopped:

"That is your last word?"

The Nabob hesitated a second, seized by a presentiment of evil at sight
of that pale, wicked mouth; then he remembered the promise he had given
his friend.

"That is my last word."

"Very well, we will see," said Beau Moessard, while his cane cleft the
air with a noise like a snake's hiss; and, turning on his heel, he
strode rapidly away like a man who has very important business awaiting
him.

Jansoulet continued his triumphal march. On that day it would have
required something much more serious to disturb the equilibrium of his
happiness; on the other hand he felt encouraged by the beginning so
successfully accomplished.

The great vestibule was filled with a compact crowd, whom the approach
of the hour for closing impelled toward the outer world, but whom one of
the sudden downpours which seem an essential part of the opening of the
Salon detained under the porch with its floor of hard-trodden gravel,
like the entrance to the Circus where the lady-killers disport
themselves. It was a curious, thoroughly Parisian spectacle.

Outside, the sunbeams shining through the rain, attaching to its limpid
threads those sharp, brilliant blades of light which justify the proverb
"It rains halberds;" the young verdure of the Champs-Elysees, the clumps
of dripping, rustling rhododendrons, the carriages drawn up in line on
the avenue, the oilcloth capes of the coachmen, all the splendid
accoutrements of the horses to which the water and the sunbeams imparted
vastly greater richness and effect, and everywhere a gleam of blue, the
blue of the sky, smiling in the interval between two showers.

Within, laughter, idle chatter, salutations, impatience, skirts turned
up, satins puffing vaingloriously over the narrow pleats of petticoats
and delicately striped silk stockings, oceans of fringe, of lace, of
flounces, held with one hand in too heavy bundles, and torn beyond
recognition. Then, to connect the two sides of the picture, the
prisoners framed by the arched doorway and standing in its dark shadow,
with the vast background of light behind them, footmen running about
under umbrellas, shouting names of coachmen and names of masters, and
coupes slowly approaching, into which terrified couples hastil