clearly proved in his pieces justificatives: First, that he had
served under another name in the ranks of the army in Algiers; had
distinguished himself there for signal valour, and received, with
promotion, the decoration of the cross. His real name was known only
to his colonel, and on quitting the service, the colonel placed in his
hands a letter of warm eulogy on his conduct, and identifying him as
Victor de Mauleon. Secondly, that in California he had saved a wealthy
family from midnight murder, fighting single-handed against and
overmastering three ruffians, and declining all other reward from those
he had preserved than a written attestation of their gratitude. In all
countries, valour ranks high in the list of virtues; in no country does
it so absolve from vices as it does in France.

But as yet Victor de Mauleon's vindication was only known by a few, and
those belonging to the gayer circles of life. How he might be judged by
the sober middle class, which constitutes the most important section of
public opinion to a candidate for political trusts and distinctions, was
another question.

The Duchesse stood at the door to receive her visitors. Duplessis was
seated near the entrance, by the side of a distinguished member of
the Imperial Government, with whom he was carrying on a whispered
conversation. The eye of the financier, however, turned towards the
doorway as Alain and Enguerrand entered, and passing over their familiar
faces, fixed itself attentively on that of a mach older man whom
Enguerrand was presenting to the Duchesse, and in whom Duplessis
rightly divined the Vicomte de Mauleon. Certainly if no one could have
recognized M. Lebeau in the stately personage who had visited Louvier,
still less could one who had heard of the wild feats of the roi des
viveurs in his youth reconcile belief in such tales with the quiet
modesty of mien which distinguished the cavalier now replying, with
bended head and subdued accents, to the courteous welcome of the
brilliant hostess. But for such difference in attributes between the
past and the present De Mauleon, Duplessis had been prepared by the
conversation at the Maison Doree. And now, as the Vicomte, yielding his
place by the Duchesse to some new-comer, glided on, and, leaning against
a column, contemplated the gay scene before him with that expression of
countenance, half sarcastic, half mournful, with which men regard, after
long estrangement, the scenes of depar