when he travels," said Mistigris.

"So that's the morality of studios, is it?" cried the count, with an air
of great simplicity.

"Is the morality of courts where you got those decorations of yours any
better?" said Schinner, recovering his self-possession, upset for the
moment by finding out how much the count knew of Schinner's life as an
artist.

"I never asked for any of my orders," said the count. "I believe I have
loyally earned them."

"'A fair yield and no flavor,'" said Mistigris.

The count was resolved not to betray himself; he assumed an air of
good-humored interest in the country, and looked up the valley of
Groslay as the coucou took the road to Saint-Brice, leaving that to
Chantilly on the right.

"Is Rome as fine as they say it is?" said Georges, addressing the great
painter.

"Rome is fine only to those who love it; a man must have a passion for
it to enjoy it. As a city, I prefer Venice,--though I just missed being
murdered there."

"Faith, yes!" cried Mistigris; "if it hadn't been for me you'd have been
gobbled up. It was that mischief-making tom-fool, Lord Byron, who
got you into the scrape. Oh! wasn't he raging, that buffoon of an
Englishman?"

"Hush!" said Schinner. "I don't want my affair with Lord Byron talked
about."

"But you must own, all the same, that you were glad enough I knew how to
box," said Mistigris.

From time to time, Pierrotin exchanged sly glances with the count,
which might have made less inexperienced persons than the five other
travellers uneasy.

"Lords, pachas, and thirty-thousand-franc ceilings!" he cried. "I seem
to be driving sovereigns. What pourboires I'll get!"

"And all the places paid for!" said Mistigris, slyly.

"It is a lucky day for me," continued Pierrotin; "for you know, Pere
Leger, about my beautiful new coach on which I have paid an advance of
two thousand francs? Well, those dogs of carriage-builders, to whom I
have to pay two thousand five hundred francs more, won't take fifteen
hundred down, and my note for a thousand for two months! Those vultures
want it all. Who ever heard of being so stiff with a man in business
these eight years, and the father of a family?--making me run the risk
of losing everything, carriage and money too, if I can't find before
to-morrow night that miserable last thousand! Hue, Bichette! They won't
play that trick on the great coach offices, I'll warrant you."

"Yes, that's it," said the rapin; "'your money or