passed
lightly as a snowdrift on a frozen river.

CHAPTER IV.

"Mr. Reed, you certainly are the most old-maidish man I ever saw in my
life."

The room did appear old-maidish, as Mademoiselle Milan stood looking in.
The balmy breeze fluttered pleasantly past the little French curtains,
the glowing sunshine warmed the delicate tracery of the walls and
lighted up the flowers on a huge rug spread on the bare floor. A tiny
bouquet of Spanish violets, in a wonderful little vase, filled the room
with a dreamy perfume, such as one sometimes imagines he would find in
those far-off little islands in the South seas. There were crayon
sketches hung between the windows, here and there a statuette filled a
niche, and out on the glass-floored gallery was a perfect bower of
flowers. There were several easy-chairs placed about in comfortable
positions, as if they were all made to sit on, and a great lounge,
covered with green marine, stood, like a small grass-mound, under one of
the windows.

Percy Reed, seated near a table loaded with needle-books, silk-winders,
and a hundred little trinkets, with a cigar in his mouth, and a sock,
with a little round gourd shoved into the foot of it, in his hand, was
intently occupied in darning a hole in the toe.

"There! don't throw away your cigar. _Mon Dieu!_ can a person never see
you without being overpowered at your grand politeness?"

"Mademoiselle, I make no apologies. Buttons will come off, and stockings
will contract holes. Washer-women are heartless. The mountain will not
come to Mahomet: therefore I darn 'em myself."

"A philosopher under all circumstances. And pray what have you done with
your pupil in morality and economy?"

"Oh, Dupleisis? I have started him out in a carriage to view the wonders
of this 'River of January.' By-the-by, if you ever hope to attract,
don't dream of mentioning figures in the presence of our mysterious
Frenchman."

"Why?"

"The branch of mathematics known as simple addition seems to be the
crowning glory of his intellect. He knows to a _milreis_ the value of
this building, from chimney-pot to cellar."

"Blessed with curiosity," said Mademoiselle, significantly.

"Mathematics entirely. If Armand Dupleisis were entering the pearly
gates of Paradise, amid the resounding hallelujahs of cherubim and
seraphim, he would deliberately count the cost of the entire wardrobe,
before he thought of receiving the waters of eternal life."

"Mr. Reed," sai