. The Vicomte's fashion expired with the Orleanist dynasty.

"Is it possible, my dear Vicomte," answered Graham, "not to be pleased
with a capital so marvellously embellished?"

"Embellished it may be to foreign eyes," said the Vicomte, sighing, "but
not improved to the taste of a Parisian like me. I miss the dear Paris
of old,--the streets associated with my beaux jours are no more.
Is there not something drearily monotonous in those interminable
perspectives? How frightfully the way lengthens before one's eyes! In
the twists and curves of the old Paris one was relieved from the pain
of seeing how far one had to go from one spot to another,--each tortuous
street had a separate idiosyncrasy; what picturesque diversities,
what interesting recollections,--all swept away! Mon Dieu! and
what for,--miles of florid facades staring and glaring at one with
goggle-eyed pitiless windows; house-rents trebled, and the consciousness
that if you venture to grumble underground railways, like concealed
volcanoes, can burst forth on you at any moment with an eruption of
bayonets and muskets. This maudit empire seeks to keep its hold
on France much as a grand seigneur seeks to enchain a nymph of
the ballet,--tricks her out in finery and baubles, and insures her
infidelity the moment he fails to satisfy her whims."

"Vicomte," answered Graham, "I have had the honour to know you since I
was a small boy at a preparatory school home for the holidays, and you
were a guest at my father's country-house. You were then fete as one of
the most promising writers among the young men of the day, especially
favoured by the princes of the reigning family. I shall never forget
the impression made on me by your brilliant appearance and your no less
brilliant talk."

"Ah! ces beaux jours! ce bon Louis Philippe, ce cher petit Joinville,"
sighed the Vicomte.

"But at that day you compared le bon Louis Philippe to Robert Macaire.
You described all his sons, including, no doubt, ce cher petit
Joinville, in terms of resentful contempt, as so many plausible gamins
whom Robert Macaire was training to cheat the public in the interest of
the family firm. I remember my father saying to you in answer, 'No royal
house in Europe has more sought to develop the literature of an epoch
and to signalize its representatives by social respect and official
honours than that of the Orleans dynasty. You, Monsieur de Breze, do but
imitate your elders in seeking to destroy t