w at the outset
of his son's career.

"My son, the Comte d'Esgrignon, cannot make his appearance at court like
a tatterdemalion," he continued after a pause, marked by a sigh; "he
must be equipped. Alas! for these two hundred years we have had no
retainers. Ah! Chevalier, this demolition from top to bottom always
brings me back to the first hammer stroke delivered by M. de Mirabeau.
The one thing needful nowadays is money; that is all that the Revolution
has done that I can see. The King does not ask you whether you are a
descendant of the Valois or a conquerer of Gaul; he asks whether you pay
a thousand francs in tailles which nobles never used to pay. So I
cannot well send the Count to court without a matter of twenty thousand
crowns----"

"Yes," assented the Chevalier, "with that trifling sum he could cut a
brave figure."

"Well," said Mlle. Armande, "I have asked Chesnel to come to-night.
Would you believe it, Chevalier, ever since the day when Chesnel
proposed that I should marry that miserable du Croisier----"

"Ah! that was truly unworthy, mademoiselle!" cried the Chevalier.

"Unpardonable!" said the Marquis.

"Well, since then my brother has never brought himself to ask anything
whatsoever of Chesnel," continued Mlle. Armande.

"Of your old household servant? Why, Marquis, you would do Chesnel
honor--an honor which he would gratefully remember till his latest
breath."

"No," said the Marquis, "the thing is beneath one's dignity, it seems to
me."

"There is not much question of dignity; it is a matter of necessity,"
said the Chevalier, with the trace of a shrug.

"Never," said the Marquis, riposting with a gesture which decided the
Chevalier to risk a great stroke to open his old friend's eyes.

"Very well," he said, "since you do not know it, I will tell you
myself that Chesnel has let your son have something already, something
like----"

"My son is incapable of accepting anything whatever from Chesnel," the
Marquis broke in, drawing himself up as he spoke. "He might have come to
_you_ to ask you for twenty-five louis----"

"Something like a hundred thousand livres," said the Chevalier,
finishing his sentence.

"The Comte d'Esgrignon owes a hundred thousand livres to a Chesnel!"
cried the Marquis, with every sign of deep pain. "Oh! if he were not
an only son, he should set out to-night for Mexico with a captain's
commission. A man may be in debt to money-lenders, they charge a heavy
interest,