. Little Chandler looked at his friend enviously.

"Everything in Paris is gay," said Ignatius Gallaher. "They believe in
enjoying life--and don't you think they're right? If you want to enjoy
yourself properly you must go to Paris. And, mind you, they've a great
feeling for the Irish there. When they heard I was from Ireland they
were ready to eat me, man."

Little Chandler took four or five sips from his glass.

"Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so... immoral as they
say?"

Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture with his right arm.

"Every place is immoral," he said. "Of course you do find spicy bits in
Paris. Go to one of the students' balls, for instance. That's lively, if
you like, when the cocottes begin to let themselves loose. You know what
they are, I suppose?"

"I've heard of them," said Little Chandler.

Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his had.

"Ah," he said, "you may say what you like. There's no woman like the
Parisienne--for style, for go."

"Then it is an immoral city," said Little Chandler, with timid
insistence--"I mean, compared with London or Dublin?"

"London!" said Ignatius Gallaher. "It's six of one and half-a-dozen of
the other. You ask Hogan, my boy. I showed him a bit about London when
he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say, Tommy, don't make punch
of that whisky: liquor up."

"No, really...."

"O, come on, another one won't do you any harm. What is it? The same
again, I suppose?"

"Well... all right."

"Francois, the same again.... Will you smoke, Tommy?"

Ignatius Gallaher produced his cigar-case. The two friends lit their
cigars and puffed at them in silence until their drinks were served.

"I'll tell you my opinion," said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging after some
time from the clouds of smoke in which he had taken refuge, "it's a rum
world. Talk of immorality! I've heard of cases--what am I saying?--I've
known them: cases of... immorality...."

Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully at his cigar and then, in a calm
historian's tone, he proceeded to sketch for his friend some pictures
of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised the vices of many
capitals and seemed inclined to award the palm to Berlin. Some things he
could not vouch for (his friends had told him), but of others he had had
personal experience. He spared neither rank nor caste. He revealed many
of the secrets of religious houses on the Continent and described