"No business success of yours could surprise me," said the Duke
blandly, with a faint, ironical smile.

M. Gournay-Martin's little pig's eyes danced and sparkled; and the
smiles flowed over the distended skin of his face like little ripples
over a stagnant pool, reluctantly. It seemed to be too tightly
stretched for smiles.

"The car's four years old," he said joyfully. "He'll give me eight
hundred for it, and it's not worth a pipe of tobacco. And eight hundred
pounds is just the price of a little Watteau I've had my eye on for
some time--a first-class investment."

They strolled down the terrace, and through one of the windows into the
hall. Firmin had lighted the lamps, two of them. They made but a small
oasis of light in a desert of dim hall. The millionaire let himself
down very gingerly into an Empire chair, as if he feared, with
excellent reason, that it might collapse under his weight.

"Well, my dear Duke," he said, "you don't ask me the result of my
official lunch or what the minister said."

"Is there any news?" said the Duke carelessly.

"Yes. The decree will be signed to-morrow. You can consider yourself
decorated. I hope you feel a happy man," said the millionaire, rubbing
his fat hands together with prodigious satisfaction.

"Oh, charmed--charmed," said the Duke, with entire indifference.

"As for me, I'm delighted--delighted," said the millionaire. "I was
extremely keen on your being decorated. After that, and after a volume
or two of travels, and after you've published your grandfather's
letters with a good introduction, you can begin to think of the
Academy."

"The Academy!" said the Duke, startled from his usual coolness. "But
I've no title to become an Academician."

"How, no title?" said the millionaire solemnly; and his little eyes
opened wide. "You're a duke."

"There's no doubt about that," said the Duke, watching him with
admiring curiosity.

"I mean to marry my daughter to a worker--a worker, my dear Duke," said
the millionaire, slapping his big left hand with his bigger right.
"I've no prejudices--not I. I wish to have for son-in-law a duke who
wears the Order of the Legion of Honour, and belongs to the Academie
Francaise, because that is personal merit. I'm no snob."

A gentle, irrepressible laugh broke from the Duke.

"What are you laughing at?" said the millionaire, and a sudden lowering
gloom overspread his beaming face.

"Nothing--nothing," said the Duke quietly. "Only