resles," cried
Joseph Bridau. "Have you made any new campaigns in Asia, Africa, or
America?"

"Sacrebleu! I've made the revolution of July, and that's enough for me,
for it ruined me."

"Ah! you made the revolution of July!" cried the painter, laughing.
"Well, I always said it never made itself."

"How people meet again!" said Monsieur Leger, turning to Monsieur de
Reybert. "This, papa Reybert, is the clerk of the notary to whom you
undoubtedly owe the stewardship of Presles."

"We lack Mistigris, now famous under his own name of Leon de Lora," said
Joseph Bridau, "and the little young man who was stupid enough to talk
to the count about those skin diseases which are now cured, and about
his wife, whom he has recently left that he may die in peace."

"And the count himself, you lack him," said old Reybert.

"I'm afraid," said Joseph Bridau, sadly, "that the last journey the
count will ever take will be from Presles to Isle-Adam, to be present at
my marriage."

"He still drives about the park," said Reybert.

"Does his wife come to see him?" asked Leger.

"Once a month," replied Reybert. "She is never happy out of Paris. Last
September she married her niece, Mademoiselle du Rouvre, on whom, since
the death of her son, she spends all her affection, to a very rich young
Pole, the Comte Laginski."

"To whom," asked Madame Clapart, "will Monsieur de Serizy's property
go?"

"To his wife, who will bury him," replied Georges. "The countess is
still fine-looking for a woman of fifty-four years of age. She is very
elegant, and, at a little distance, gives one the illusion--"

"She will always be an illusion to you," said Leger, who seemed inclined
to revenge himself on his former hoaxer.

"I respect her," said Georges. "But, by the bye, what became of that
steward whom the count turned off?"

"Moreau?" said Leger; "why, he's the deputy from the Oise."

"Ha! the famous Centre man; Moreau de l'Oise?" cried Georges.

"Yes," returned Leger, "Moreau de l'Oise. He did more than you for the
revolution of July, and he has since then bought the beautiful estate of
Pointel, between Presles and Beaumont."

"Next to the count's," said Georges. "I call that very bad taste."

"Don't speak so loud," said Monsieur de Reybert, "for Madame Moreau and
her daughter, the Baronne de Canalis, and the Baron himself, the former
minister, are in the coupe."

"What 'dot' could he have given his daughter to induce our great orator
t