racing and the shooting and hunting
seasons, together with his mistress and his tailor.

He considered that to ride in a steeple-chase was an act of prowess
worthy of his ancestors; and when he galloped past the stand, clad as
a jockey, in top-boots and a violet silk jacket, he believed he read
admiration in every eye. This was his every-day life, which had been
enlivened by a few salient episodes: two duels, an elopement with a
married woman, a twenty-six hours' seance at the gaming table, and a
fall from his horse, while hunting, which nearly cost him his life.
These acts of valor had raised him considerably in the estimation of
his friends, and procured him a celebrity of which he was not a little
proud. The newspaper reporters were constantly mentioning his name, and
the sporting journals never failed to chronicle his departure from Paris
or his arrival in the city.

Unfortunately, such a life of busy idleness has its trials and its
vicissitudes, and M. de Valorsay was a living proof of this. He was only
thirty-three, but in spite of the care he expended upon his toilette,
he looked at least forty. Wrinkles were beginning to show themselves;
it required all the skill of his valet to conceal the bald spots on his
cranium; and since his fall from his horse, he had been troubled by
a slight stiffness in his right leg, which stiffness became perfect
lameness in threatening weather. Premature lassitude pervaded his
entire person, and when he relaxed in vigilance even his eyes betrayed
a distaste for everything--weariness, satiety as it were. All the same,
however, he bore himself with an undeniable air of distinction, albeit
the haughtiness of his manner indicated an exaggerated idea of his own
importance. He was indeed in the habit of treating all those whom he
considered his inferiors with supercilious sufficiency.

The clock on M. Fortunat's mantel-shelf struck eleven at last and the
marquis rose to his feet with a muttered oath. "This is too much!" he
growled, angrily.

He looked about for a bell, and seeing none, he was reduced to the dire
necessity of opening the door himself, and calling some one. Madame
Dodelin answered the summons. "Monsieur said he would return before
midnight," she replied; "so he will certainly be here. There is no one
like him for punctuality. Won't monsieur have patience a little longer?"

"Well, I will wait a few moments; but, my good woman, light the fire; my
feet are frozen!"

M.