illes about the
business chances of the morrow. A tall, agile Alsatian woman, with a
gilt crucifix about her neck, and a great deal of the peasant beauty
still in her face, glides into the _salon_ from time to
time, acting apparently in the capacity of mistress of the
establishment--respectfully courteous to Maverick and his friend, yet
showing something more than the usual familiarity of a dependent
housekeeper.

The friend who sits with him enjoying the night breeze and those rare
Havanas is an open-faced, middle-aged companion of the city, with whom
Maverick has sometimes gone to a _bourgeois_ home near to Montauban,
where a wrinkle-faced old Frenchman in velvet skull-cap--the father of
his friend--has received him with profound obeisance, brought out for
him his best _cru_ of St. Peray, and bored him with long stories of the
times of 1798, in which he was a participant. Yet the home-scenes there,
with the wrinkled old father and the stately mamma for partners at whist
or boston, have been grateful to Maverick, as reminders of other
home-scenes long passed out of reach; and he has opened his heart to
this son of the house.

"Monsieur Papiol," (it is the Alsatian woman who is addressing the
friend of Maverick,) "ask, then, why it is Monsieur Frank is going to
America."

"Ah, Lucille, do you not know, then, there is a certain Puritan belle he
goes to look after?"

"Pah!" says the Alsatian, "Monsieur is not so young!"

Maverick puffs at his cigar thoughtfully,--a thoughtfulness that does
not encourage the Alsatian to other speech,--and in a moment more she is
gone.

"Seriously, Maverick," says Papiol, when they are alone again, "what
will you do with this Puritan daughter of yours?"

"Keep her from ways of wickedness," said Maverick, without losing his
thoughtfulness.

"Excellent!" said the friend, laughing; "but you will hardly bring her
to this home of yours, then?"

"Hardly to this country of yours, Pierre."

"Nonsense, Maverick! You will be too proud of her, _mon ami_. I'm sure
of that. You'll never keep her cribbed yonder. We shall see you
escorting her some day up and down the Prado, and all the fine young
fellows hereabout paying court to the _belle Americaine_. My faith! I
shall be wishing myself twenty years younger!"

Maverick is still very thoughtful.

"What is it, my good fellow? Is it--that the family question gives
annoyance among your friends yonder?"

"On the contrary," says Maverick,-