ndred thousand francs. Nor has he made his own fortune alone, but that
of many others; some of birth as high as your own. He has the genius of
riches, and knocks off a million as a poet does an ode, by the force
of inspiration. He is hand-in-glove with the Ministers, and has been
invited to Compiegne by the Emperor. You will find him very useful."

Alain made a slight movement of incredulous dissent, and changed the
conversation to reminiscences of old school-boy days.

The dinner at length came to a close. Frederic rang for the
bill,--glanced over it. "Fifty-nine francs," said he, carelessly
flinging down his napoleon and a half. The Marquis silently drew
forth his purse and extracted the same sum. When they were out of
the restaurant, Frederic proposed adjourning to his own rooms. "I
can promise you an excellent cigar, one of a box given to me by an
invaluable young Spaniard attached to the Embassy here. Such cigars are
not to be had at Paris for money, nor even for love; seeing that women,
however devoted and generous, never offer you anything better than a
cigarette. Such cigars are only to be had for friendship. Friendship is
a jewel."

"I never smoke," answered the Marquis, "but I shall be charmed to come
to your rooms; only don't let me encroach on your good-nature. Doubtless
you have engagements for the evening."

"None till eleven o'clock, when I have promised to go to a soiree
to which I do not offer to take you; for it is one of those Bohemian
entertainments at which it would do you harm in the Faubourg to
assist,--at least until you have made good your position. Let me see, is
not the Duchesse de Tarascon a relation of yours?"

"Yes; my poor mother's first cousin."

"I congratulate you. 'Tres grande dame.' She will launch you in 'puro
cielo,' as Juno might have launched one of her young peacocks."

"There has been no acquaintance between our houses," returned the
Marquis, dryly, "since the mesalliance of her second nuptials."

"Mesalliance! second nuptials! Her second husband was the Duc de
Tarascon."

"A duke of the First Empire, the grandson of a butcher."

"Diable! you are a severe genealogist, Monsieur le Marquis. How can you
consent to walk arm-in-arm with me, whose great-grandfather supplied
bread to the same army to which the Due de Tarascon's grandfather
furnished the meat?"

"My dear Frederic, we two have an equal pedigree, for our friendship
dates from the same hour. I do not blame the