overrate my power in society. Why not appeal yourself to your
high-born relations?"

"No, Louvier; I have too well considered the case to alter my decision.
It is through you, and you alone, that I shall approach my relations.
My vindicator must be a man of whom the vulgar cannot say, 'Oh, he is a
relation,--a fellow-noble; those aristocrats whitewash each other.'
It must be an authority with the public at large,--a bourgeois, a
millionaire, a roi de la Bourse. I choose you, and that ends the
discussion."

Louvier could not help laughing good-humouredly at the sang froid of the
Vicomte. He was once more under the domination of a man who had for a
time dominated all with whom he lived.

De Mauleon continued: "Your task will be easy enough. Society changes
rapidly at Paris. Few persons now exist who have more than a vague
recollection of the circumstances which can be so easily explained to my
complete vindication when the vindication comes from a man of your solid
respectability and social influence. Besides, I have political
objects in view. You are a Liberal; the Vandemars and Rochebriants are
Legitimists. I prefer a godfather on the Liberal side. Pardieu, mon ami,
why such coquettish hesitation? Said and done. Your hand on it."

"There is my hand then. I will do all I can to help you."

"I know you will, old friend; and you do both kindly and wisely." Here
De Mauleon cordially pressed the hand he held, and departed.

On gaining the street, the Vicomte glided into a neighbouring courtyard,
in which he had left his fiacre, and bade the coachman drive towards the
Boulevard Sebastopol. On the way, he took from a small bag that he
had left in the carriage the flaxen wig and pale whiskers which
distinguished M. Lebeau, and mantled his elegant habiliments in an
immense cloak, which he had also left in the fiacre. Arrived at the
Boulevard Sebastopol, he drew up the collar of the cloak so as to
conceal much of his face, stopped the driver, paid him quickly, and, bag
in hand, hurried on to another stand of fiacres at a little distance,
entered one, drove to the Faubourg Montmartre, dismissed the vehicle
at the mouth of a street not far from M. Lebeau's office, and gained
on foot the private side-door of the house, let himself in with his
latchkey, entered the private room on the inner side of his office,
locked the door, and proceeded leisurely to exchange the brilliant
appearance which the Vicomte de Mauleon had borne o