town.
And you may be sure that the ribbon of the Legion of Honor was not
missing from his breast, gallantly padded _a la Prussienne_. Proudly
seated in one corner of the _milord_, this splendid person let his
gaze wander over the passers-by, who, in Paris, often thus meet an
ingratiating smile meant for sweet eyes that are absent.

The vehicle stopped in the part of the street between the Rue de
Bellechasse and the Rue de Bourgogne, at the door of a large,
newly-build house, standing on part of the court-yard of an ancient
mansion that had a garden. The old house remained in its original
state, beyond the courtyard curtailed by half its extent.

Only from the way in which the officer accepted the assistance of the
coachman to help him out, it was plain that he was past fifty. There
are certain movements so undisguisedly heavy that they are as
tell-tale as a register of birth. The captain put on his lemon-colored
right-hand glove, and, without any question to the gatekeeper, went up
the outer steps to the ground of the new house with a look that
proclaimed, "She is mine!"

The _concierges_ of Paris have sharp eyes; they do not stop visitors
who wear an order, have a blue uniform, and walk ponderously; in
short, they know a rich man when they see him.

This ground floor was entirely occupied by Monsieur le Baron Hulot
d'Ervy, Commissary General under the Republic, retired army
contractor, and at the present time at the head of one of the most
important departments of the War Office, Councillor of State, officer
of the Legion of Honor, and so forth.

This Baron Hulot had taken the name of d'Ervy--the place of his birth
--to distinguish him from his brother, the famous General Hulot,
Colonel of the Grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, created by the
Emperor Comte de Forzheim after the campaign of 1809. The Count, the
elder brother, being responsible for his junior, had, with paternal
care, placed him in the commissariat, where, thanks to the services of
the two brothers, the Baron deserved and won Napoleon's good graces.
After 1807, Baron Hulot was Commissary General for the army in Spain.

Having rung the bell, the citizen-captain made strenuous efforts to
pull his coat into place, for it had rucked up as much at the back as
in front, pushed out of shape by the working of a piriform stomach.
Being admitted as soon as the servant in livery saw him, the important
and imposing personage followed the man, who opened the do