own the steps behind us?"

John Turner, looking over his shoulder, gave a grunt.

"Old De Clericy and his daughter," he answered. "One of the families
that are too old to keep pace with the times."

[Illustration: "WHO IS THE YOUNG LADY COMING DOWN THE STEPS BEHIND US?"]

We walked on a little.

"There is a chance for you--wants a secretary," muttered my companion.

"Does he?" I exclaimed, stopping. "Then introduce me."

"Not I."

"Why?"

"Can't introduce a man who came across in a piano-case," he answered,
with a laugh, which made me remember that this was a man of station
and some standing in Paris, while I was but a vagabond and
ne'er-do-well.

"Then I'll introduce myself," I said, hastily.

John Turner shrugged his broad shoulders and walked on. As for me, I
stopped and on the impulse of the moment turned.

Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Clericy were coming slowly towards me,
and more than one looked at the fair young girl with a franker
admiration than I cared about, while she was happily unconscious of
it. It would seem that she must lately have left the convent, for the
guileless pink and white of that pure life lingered on her face, while
her eyes danced with an excitement out of all proportion to the
moment. What should she know of Napoleon I, and how rejoice for France
when she knew but little of the dark days through which the great
general had brought that land?

I edged my way towards them through the crowd without pausing to
reflect what I was about to do. I had run away from my creditors, it
is true, but was not called upon to work for my living. The Howards
had not done much of that, so far as I knew; though many of my
ancestors, if one may credit the old portraits at home, had fought for
rights, and even wrongs, with considerable spirit and success.

The throng was a well-dressed one, and consequently of a cold and evil
temper if one worked against it. I succeeded, however, in reaching
Monsieur de Clericy and touched his arm. He turned hastily, as one
possessing foes as well as friends, and showed me a most benevolent
countenance, kindly and sympathetic even when accosted by a total
stranger.

"Monsieur de Clericy?" I asked.

He peered up at me with pleasant, short-sighted eyes while returning
my salute.

"But yes. Am I happy enough to be able to do anything for Monsieur?"

He spoke in a high, thin voice that was almost childlike, and a
feeling of misgiving ran through me that one