en a fifteenth and a sixteenth
century."

"But, monsieur, are we not in the right? The sixteenth century only gave
religious liberty to Europe, and the nineteenth will give it political
lib----"

"Oh, we will not talk politics. I am a perfect old woman--ultra you see.
But I do not hinder young men from being revolutionary, so long as they
leave the King at liberty to disperse their assemblies."

When they had gone a little way, and the Count and his companion were in
the heart of the woods, the old sailor pointed out a slender young
birch sapling, pulled up his horse, took out one of his pistols, and the
bullet was lodged in the heart of the tree, fifteen paces away.

"You see, my dear fellow, that I am not afraid of a duel," he said with
comical gravity, as he looked at Monsieur Longueville.

"Nor am I," replied the young man, promptly cocking his pistol; he aimed
at the hole made by the Comte's bullet, and sent his own close to it.

"That is what I call a well-educated man," cried the admiral with
enthusiasm.

During this ride with the youth, whom he already regarded as his nephew,
he found endless opportunities of catechizing him on all the trifles of
which a perfect knowledge constituted, according to his private code, an
accomplished gentleman.

"Have you any debts?" he at last asked of his companion, after many
other inquiries.

"No, monsieur."

"What, you pay for all you have?"

"Punctually; otherwise we should lose our credit, and every sort of
respect."

"But at least you have more than one mistress? Ah, you blush, comrade!
Well, manners have changed. All these notions of lawful order, Kantism,
and liberty have spoilt the young men. You have no Guimard now, no
Duthe, no creditors--and you know nothing of heraldry; why, my dear
young friend, you are not fully fledged. The man who does not sow his
wild oats in the spring sows them in the winter. If I have but eighty
thousand francs a year at the age of seventy, it is because I ran
through the capital at thirty. Oh! with my wife--in decency and honor.
However, your imperfections will not interfere with my introducing you
at the Pavillon Planat. Remember, you have promised to come, and I shall
expect you."

"What an odd little old man!" said Longueville to himself. "He is so
jolly and hale; but though he wishes to seem a good fellow, I will not
trust him too far."

Next day, at about four o'clock, when the house party were dispersed
in the drawi