amin _had_ an excellent opportunity in
view, his pertinacity was invincible. Being now resolved to stay, it
was not in Monsieur Bonelle's power to banish him. At the same time
he had tact enough to render his presence agreeable. He knew that his
coarse and boisterous wit had often delighted Monsieur Bonelle of old,
and he now exerted himself so successfully as to betray the old man
two or three times into hearty laughter. "Ramin," said he at length,
laying his thin hand on the arm of his guest, and peering with his
keen glance into the mercer's purple face, "you are a funny fellow,
but I know you; you cannot make me believe you have called just to
see how I am, and to amuse me. Come, be candid for once; what do you
want?"

Ramin threw himself back in his chair, and laughed blandly, as much as
to say, "Can you suspect me?"

"I have no shop now out of which you can wheedle me," continued the
old man; "and surely you are not such a fool as to come to me for
money."

"Money!" repeated the draper, as if his host had mentioned something
he never dreamt of. "Oh, no!"

Ramin saw it would not do to broach the subject he had really come
about, too abruptly, now that suspicion seemed so wide awake--_the_
opportunity had not arrived.

"There is something up, Ramin, I know; I see it in the twinkle of your
eye; but you can't deceive me again."

"Deceive _you_?" said the jolly schemer, shaking his head
reverentially. "Deceive a man of your penetration and depth?
Impossible! The bare supposition is flattery. My dear friend," he
continued, soothingly, "I did not dream of such a thing. The fact is,
Bonelle, though they call me a jovial, careless, rattling dog, I have
a conscience; and, somehow, I have never felt quite easy about the
way in which I became your successor down-stairs. It was rather sharp
practice, I admit."

Bonelle seemed to relent.

"Now for it," said the Opportunity-hunter to himself--"By-the-bye,"
(speaking aloud,) "this house must be a great trouble to you in your
present weak state? Two of your lodgers have lately gone away without
paying--a great nuisance, especially to an invalid."

"I tell you I'm as sound as a colt."

"At all events, the whole concern must be a great bother to you. If I
were you, I would sell the house."

"And if I were _you_," returned the landlord, dryly, "I would buy
it--"

"Precisely," interrupted the tenant, eagerly.

"That is, if you could get it. Pooh! I knew you were aft