but without success. If she only had some ground of complaint against
me, how happy I would be.

A terrible thought possesses my fevered brain--she has fallen into some
snare, my marvellously beautiful Irene.

Hide my sorrows, dear Edgar, from the world as I have hidden them.

You would not have recognised the writer of this, had you seen him on
the boulevard this morning. I was a superb dandy, with the poses of a
Sybarite and the smiles of a young sultan. I trod as one in the clouds,
and looked so benevolently on my fellow man that three beggars sued for
aid as if they recognised Providence in a black coat. The last
observation that reached my ear fell from the lips of an observing
philosopher:

"Heavens! how happy that young man must be!"

Dear Edgar, I long to see you.

ROGER DE MONBERT.

III.

EDGAR DE MEILHAN _to the_ PRINCE DE MONBERT,
St. Dominique Street, Paris.

RICHEPORT, 20th May, 18--

No, no, I cannot console you in Paris. I will escort your grief to
Smyrna, Grand Cairo, Chandernagore, New Holland, if you wish, but I
would rather be scalped alive than turn my steps towards that
fascinating city surrounded by fortifications.

Your elegy found me moderately impressible. Fortune has apparently
always treated you like a spoiled child; were your misfortunes mine I
should be delighted, and in your torment I should find a paradise. A
disappearance afflicts you with agony. I was forced to beat a retreat
once, but not from creditors; my debts are things of the past. You are
fled from--I am pursued; and whatever you may say to the contrary, it is
much more agreeable to be the dog than the hare.

Ah! if the beauty that I adore (this is melo-dramatic) had only
conceived such a triumphant idea! I should not be the one who--but no
one knows when he is well off. This Mlle. Irene de Chateaudun pleases
me, for by this opportune and ingenious eclipse she prevents you from
committing a great absurdity. What put marriage into your head,
forsooth! You who have housed with Bengal tigers and treated the lions
of Atlas as lapdogs; who have seen, like Don Caesar de Bazan, women of
every color and clime; how could you have centred your affections upon
this Parisian doll, and chained the fancies of your cosmopolitan soul to
the dull, rolling wheel of domestic and conjugal duty?

So don't swear at her; bless her with a grateful heart, put a bill of
credit in your pocket, and off we'll sail for China. We will m