with his staff of secretaries.

Schmidt saw at this time how depressed his young friend had become and
felt that in part at least it was due to want of steady occupation.
Trying to distract him one evening, he said: "Let us go to the fencing
school of the Comte du Vallon. I have long meant to ask you. It is late,
but the _emigres_ go thither on a Friday. It will amuse you, and you
want something I cannot teach. Your defense is slow, your attack too
unguarded."

"But," said De Courval, "I cannot afford lessons at a dollar. It is very
well for Morris and Lloyd."

Schmidt laughed. "I let the comte have the rooms free. The house is
mine. Yes, I know, you avoid the _emigres_; but why? Oh, yes, I know you
have been busy, and they are not all to your taste, nor to mine; but you
will meet our bookseller De Mery and De Noailles, whom you know, and you
will like Du Vallon."

It was nine o'clock when, hearing foils ringing and laughter, they went
up-stairs in an old warehouse on the north side of Dunker's Court, and
entered presently a large room amid a dozen of what were plainly French
gentlemen, who were fencing in pairs and as merry as if no heads of
friends and kindred were day by day falling on the guillotine. Schmidt
knew them all and had helped many. They welcomed him warmly.

"_Bonjour, monsieur._ We amuse ourselves well, and forget a little,"
said Du Vallon. "Ah, the Vicomte de Courval! Enchanted to see you here.
Allow me to present Monsieur de Malerive. He is making a fortune with
the ice-cream, but he condescends to give us a lesson now and then.
Gentlemen, the Vicomte de Courval." The foils were lowered and men
bowed. Scarce any knew him, but several came forward and said pleasant
things, while, as they left to return to their fencing, Schmidt made his
brief comments. "That is the Chevalier Pontgibaud, Rene,--the slight
man,--a good soldier in the American war. The Vicomte de Noailles is a
partner of Bingham."

"Indeed!" said Rene. "He is in trade, as I am--a Noailles!"

"Yes; may you be as lucky. He has made a fortune, they say."

"Take a turn with the marquis," said Du Vallon. The marquis taught
fencing. De Courval replied, "With pleasure," and the clatter of foils
began again, while Du Vallon and Schmidt fell apart into quiet talk.

"The young man is a clerk and I hear has won credit and money. _Bon
chien, bonne chasse._ Do you know his story? Ah, my sad Avignon! La
Rochefoucauld told me they killed his fa