th, out from the broad portal of the clothing establishment came the
Marquis in all his glory--more glorious, in truth, than Solomon, and
more melancholy than the melancholy Jaques. And yet for an instant the
Count Siccatif de Courtray was possessed by the absurd fancy that this
stately personage was Jaune d'Antimoine! Truly, here was the same tall,
handsome figure, the same easy, elegant carriage, the same cut of hair
and beard. But the resemblance went no further, for beard and hair were
gray almost to whiteness, the face was pale and old, and the clothes,
so far from being desperately seedy, were more resplendent even than
the Count's own. No, the thought was incredible, preposterous, and yet
the Count could not discharge it from his mind. He stamped his foot
savagely; this mystery was becoming more interesting than pleasing.

In the crowd that the Marquis drew in his wake, as he slowly, sadly
sauntered up Broadway, the Count had no difficulty in following him
unobserved. The situation was that of the previous day, only it was
intensified, and therefore, to its hero, the more horrible. The
benevolent people with stray fatherless young women to dispose of were
out in greater force; the detectives were more aggressive; the
newspaper people were more persistent; the general public was more
keenly interested in the whole performance. And Rose--most dreadful of
all--was more outrageous than ever! The Count grew almost green with
rage during the three hours that he was a witness of this young woman's
scandalous conduct. A dozen times she met the Marquis in the course of
his walk, and each time that she met him she greeted him with a yet
more tender smile. A curious fact that at first surprised, then
puzzled, then comforted the Count was the very obvious annoyance which
these flattering attentions caused their recipient. Evidently, he
persistently endeavored to evade the meetings which Rose as
persistently and more successfully endeavored to force upon him. Within
the scope of M. de Courtary's comprehension only one reason seemed to
be sufficient to explain the determination on the part of the Marquis
to resist the advances of a singularly attractive young woman, whose
good disposition toward him was so conspicuously, though so
irregularly, manifested: a fear of recognition. And this reason
adjusted itself in a striking manner to the queer notion that had come
into his mind that the Marquis was an ideal creation whose realit