ergy, my dear Baron! He has been here but two hours.
My people told me of him only as I came to dinner."

"I knew him before!--I have met him often in London with the Baroness
and my lord, his cousin," said the Baron.

A smoking soup for Harry here came in, borne by the smiling host.
"Behold, sir! Behold a potage of my fashion!" says my landlord, laying
down the dish and whispering to Harry the celebrated name of the
nobleman opposite. Harry thanked Monsieur Barbeau in his own language,
upon which the foreign gentleman, turning round, grinned most graciously
at Harry, and said, "Fous bossedez notre langue barfaidement, monsieur."
Mr. Warrington had never heard the French language pronounced in that
manner in Canada. He bowed in return to the foreign gentleman.

"Tell me more about the Croesus, my good Baron," continued his lordship,
speaking rather superciliously to his companion, and taking no notice of
Harry, which perhaps somewhat nettled the young man.

"What will you, that I tell you, my dear lord? Croesus is a youth like
other youths; he is tall, like other youths; he is awkward, like other
youths; he has black hair, as they all have who come from the Indies.
Lodgings have been taken for him at Mrs. Rose's toy-shop."

"I have lodgings there too," thought Mr. Warrington. "Who is Croesus
they are talking of? How good the soup is!"

"He travels with a large retinue," the Baron continued, "four servants,
two postchaises, and a pair of outriders. His chief attendant is a black
man who saved his life from the savages in America, and who will
not hear, on any account, of being made free. He persists in wearing
mourning for his elder brother from whom he inherits his principality."

"Could anything console you for the death of yours, Chevalier?" cried
out the elder gentleman.

"Milor! his property might," said the Chevalier, "which you know is not
small."

"Your brother lives on his patrimony--which you have told me is
immense--you by your industry, my dear Chevalier."

"Milor!" cries the individual addressed as Chevalier.

"By your industry or your esprit,--how much more noble! Shall you be
at the Baroness's to-night? She ought to be a little of your parents,
Chevalier?"

"Again I fail to comprehend your lordship," said the other gentleman,
rather sulkily.

"Why, she is a woman of great wit--she is of noble birth--she has
undergone strange adventures--she has but little principle (there you
happily have t