d some liqueurs.
Popanilla was presented, and received with fascinating complaisance. His
friend stated the object of their visit, and handed the sackful of gold
to the gentleman on the sofa. The gentleman on the sofa ordered a couple
of attendants to ascertain its contents. While this computation was
going on he amused his guests by his lively conversation, and charmed
Popanilla by his polished manners and easy civility. He offered him,
during his stay in Vraibleusia, the use of a couple of equipages,
a villa, and an opera-box; insisted upon sending to his hotel some
pine-apples and some rare wine, and gave him a perpetual ticket to his
picture-gallery. When his attendants had concluded their calculation,
he ordered them to place Popanilla's precious metal in his treasury;
and then, presenting the Captain with a small packet of pink shells, he
kindly inquired whether he could be of any further use to him. Popanilla
was loth to retire without his gold, of the utility of which, in spite
of the convenience of competition, he seemed to possess an instinctive
conception; but as his friend rose and withdrew, he could do nothing
less than accompany him; for, having now known him nearly half a day,
his confidence in his honour and integrity was naturally unbounded.

'That was the King, of course?' said Popanilla, when they were fairly
out of the palace.

'The King!' said the unknown, nearly surprised into an exclamation; 'by
no means!'

'And what then?'

'My good friend! is it possible that you have no bankers in your
country?'

'Yes, it is very possible; but we have mermaids, who also give us shells
which are pretty. What then are your bankers?'

'Really, my good friend, that is a question which I never remember
having been asked before; but a banker is a man who keeps our money for
us.'

'Ah! and he is bound, I suppose, to return your money, when you choose?'

'Most assuredly!'

'He is, then, in fact, your servant: you must pay him handsomely, for
him to live so well?'

'By no means! we pay him nothing.'

'That is droll; he must be very rich then?'

'Really, my dear friend, I cannot say. Why, yes! I--I suppose he may be
very rich!'

'Tis singular that a rich man should take so much trouble for others!'

'My good friend! of course he lives by his trouble.'

'Ah! How, then,' continued the inquisitive Fantaisian, 'if you do not
pay him for his services, and he yet lives by them; how, I pray, does he
acquire