alth, apparently about
twenty-three years old, sat in the doorway of the Cafe de la Regence,
languidly surveying the passers-by, and occasionally vouchsafing a nod
of recognition to some noble cavalier, or graciously waving from his
perfumed handkerchief a sentimental salutation to some lively beauty of
high estate or doubtful fame. So very inert and imperturbable was this
gayly-dressed young gentleman, that it seemed that nothing could disturb
his dainty suavity; but suddenly, and without apparent cause, his eyes
were lighted with a feeble expression of vexation, and, by a petulant
movement, he thrust back his chair as if anxious to avoid observation.

The object that kindled this momentary spark of animation was a tall,
broad-chested man, whose appearance, as he sauntered along the
promenade, casting glances of contempt, which might or might not be
sincerely felt, at the fashionable vanities which surrounded him,
presented a striking contrast to that of the majority of strollers on
that summer afternoon. His dress, though neat, was simple, and almost
sombre, being destitute of any species of decoration. His step was bold
and vigorous, and, in his indifference to the gay panorama which glided
past him, he held his chin so high in the air that the listless young
gentleman hoped he might, in his loftiness, overlook him with the rest.

But possibly the new-comer's unconsciousness may not have been so
absolute as he endeavored to make it appear; or possibly his attention
may have been particularly attracted by the sounds of mirth issuing from
the famous Cafe. At any rate, as he approached it, he turned his head,
and, gazing a moment at the first-named gentleman, exclaimed, "Ah, my
little Fronsacquin, is it really you?"

The "little Fronsacquin" rose with a vapid smile, from which every trace
of annoyance had vanished. To be associated, even by a title of
questionable compliment, with that social hero, the Due de Fronsac,
whose nimble caperings had been the admiration of Young France for
nearly half a century, was sufficient to banish from his mind any other
thoughts than those of proud complacency and self-content. He welcomed
his interrogator with all the ardor of which he was capable. That is to
say, he lifted his hat with one effort, inclined his body with a second,
and motioned to a vacant chair beside him with a third, after which he
sank back exhausted.

Rallying presently, he said, "You are soon back again, M. de