A very quiet, gentlemanly man, neatly dressed in black, made his
appearance, to the surprise of all present, and bowed all round to
the company. "I will not show my CREDENTIALS," he said, blushing, and
pointing to his hoofs, which were cleverly hidden by his pumps and
shoe-buckles, "unless the ladies absolutely wish it; but I am the person
you want, Mr. Gambouge; pray tell me what is your will."

"You know," said that gentleman, in a stately and determined voice,
"that you are bound to me, according to our agreement, for six months to
come."

"I am," replied the new comer.

"You are to do all that I ask, whatsoever it may be, or you forfeit the
bond which I gave you?"

"It is true."

"You declare this before the present company?"

"Upon my honor, as a gentleman," said Diabolus, bowing, and laying his
hand upon his waistcoat.

A whisper of applause ran round the room: all were charmed with the
bland manners of the fascinating stranger.

"My love," continued Gambouge, mildly addressing his lady, "will you
be so polite as to step this way? You know I must go soon, and I am
anxious, before this noble company, to make a provision for one who, in
sickness as in health, in poverty as in riches, has been my truest and
fondest companion."

Gambouge mopped his eyes with his handkerchief--all the company did
likewise. Diabolus sobbed audibly, and Mrs. Gambouge sidled up to her
husband's side, and took him tenderly by the hand. "Simon!" said she,
"is it true? and do you really love your Griskinissa?"

Simon continued solemnly: "Come hither, Diabolus; you are bound to obey
me in all things for the six months during which our contract has to
run; take, then, Griskinissa Gambouge, live alone with her for half a
year, never leave her from morning till night, obey all her caprices,
follow all her whims, and listen to all the abuse which falls from
her infernal tongue. Do this, and I ask no more of you; I will deliver
myself up at the appointed time."

Not Lord G---, when flogged by lord B---, in the House,--not Mr.
Cartlitch, of Astley's Amphitheatre, in his most pathetic passages,
could look more crestfallen, and howl more hideously, than Diabolus did
now. "Take another year, Gambouge," screamed he; "two more--ten more--a
century; roast me on Lawrence's gridiron, boil me in holy water, but
don't ask that: don't, don't bid me live with Mrs. Gambouge!"

Simon smiled sternly. "I have said it," he cried; "do this, or our
c