the moonlight. The Baron entered for one last
glance over the preparations for his _petit souper_ for Rosa and her
sister of the ballet at the Opera.

"The effectiveness of his entrance was helped by his appearance behind a
colonnade, and there he stood, only half revealed, swaying unsteadily
while his palsied hand adjusted his monocle to survey the scene. There was
a flutter of applause from the audience but, appreciatively, it quickly
hushed itself. He dragged himself forward. The cosmetic could not hide the
growing pallor of the parchment drawn over the old reprobate's skull. He
crept around the table and, with a marvellous piece of 'business' by which
he held his wobbly legs while he slowly swung a chair under him,
collapsed. The picture was terrible, but fascinating. People who would,
could not turn their heads. His valet was quick with water and held the
glass in place on the salver while he directed it to the groping arm. The
crystal clinked on Chevrial's teeth as he sucked the water.

"Presently he found his legs again and tottered up to the staircase. The
picture of the black, shrivelled little man dragging his lifeless legs up
to the gallery step by step was never forgotten by anyone who saw it. At
the top he turned and said in ominous tones: 'I do not wish to be
disturbed in the morning. I shall need a long sleep'; and dragged himself
out of sight. He had been on the stage five minutes and had said scarcely
fifty words. The picture and the effect were unmistakable. The audience
capitulated. There was a roar of applause which lasted several minutes.

"The whispered discussion of this scene was such that scarcely any
attention was paid to the stage until the Baron returned. Almost
immediately afterward the ballet girls pirouetted into the hall in a
flutter of gauze, and the places at the tables were filled. No one
listened to the lines; all eyes in the house were focussed on the
withered, shrunken, flaccid little old Baron, who sat at Rosa's right,
ignored by everyone about him as they gorged on his food and drank his
wines.

"Soon he drew himself up on his feet and, raising his glass, said: 'Here's
to the god from whom our pleasures come. Here's to Plutus and a million!"

"The gay throng about the table echoed the toast: To Plutus and a
million!' and Chevrial continued:

"'While I am up I will give a second toast: 'Here's to Rosa! The most
splendid incarnation that I know!'

"Placing the glass to her l