d called his customer's attention to
the artistic skill with which he had brought a charming figure into
relief.

"A young man in such a costume has only to walk in the Tuileries," he
said, "and he will marry an English heiress within a fortnight."

Lucien brightened a little under the influences of the German tailor's
joke, the perfect fit of his new clothes, the fine cloth, and the sight
of a graceful figure which met his eyes in the looking-glass. Vaguely he
told himself that Paris was the capital of chance, and for the moment
he believed in chance. Had he not a volume of poems and a magnificent
romance entitled _The Archer of Charles IX._ in manuscript? He had hope
for the future. Staub promised the overcoat and the rest of the clothes
the next day.

The next day the bootmaker, linen-draper, and tailor all returned armed
each with his bill, which Lucien, still under the charm of provincial
habits, paid forthwith, not knowing how otherwise to rid himself of
them. After he had paid, there remained but three hundred and sixty
francs out of the two thousand which he had brought with him from
Angouleme, and he had been but one week in Paris! Nevertheless, he
dressed and went to take a stroll in the Terrassee des Feuillants. He
had his day of triumph. He looked so handsome and so graceful, he was so
well dressed, that women looked at him; two or three were so much struck
with his beauty, that they turned their heads to look again. Lucien
studied the gait and carriage of the young men on the Terrasse, and took
a lesson in fine manners while he meditated on his three hundred and
sixty francs.

That evening, alone in his chamber, an idea occurred to him which threw
a light on the problem of his existence at the Gaillard-Bois, where he
lived on the plainest fare, thinking to economize in this way. He asked
for his account, as if he meant to leave, and discovered that he was
indebted to his landlord to the extent of a hundred francs. The next
morning was spent in running around the Latin Quarter, recommended for
its cheapness by David. For a long while he looked about till, finally,
in the Rue de Cluny, close to the Sorbonne, he discovered a place where
he could have a furnished room for such a price as he could afford to
pay. He settled with his hostess of the Gaillard-Bois, and took up his
quarters in the Rue de Cluny that same day. His removal only cost him
the cab fare.

When he had taken possession of his poor room,