s too aristocratic to consent, for
the paltry sum of two million francs, to a mesalliance. The Viscount of
Morcerf can only wed a marchioness."

"But two million francs make a nice little sum," replied Morcerf.

"It is the social capital of a theatre on the boulevard, or a railroad
from the Jardin des Plantes to La Rapee."

"Never mind what he says, Morcerf," said Debray, "do you marry her. You
marry a money-bag label, it is true; well, but what does that matter? It
is better to have a blazon less and a figure more on it. You have seven
martlets on your arms; give three to your wife, and you will still have
four; that is one more than M. de Guise had, who so nearly became King
of France, and whose cousin was Emperor of Germany."

"On my word, I think you are right, Lucien," said Albert absently.

"To be sure; besides, every millionaire is as noble as a bastard--that
is, he can be."

"Do not say that, Debray," returned Beauchamp, laughing, "for here is
Chateau-Renaud, who, to cure you of your mania for paradoxes, will pass
the sword of Renaud de Montauban, his ancestor, through your body."

"He will sully it then," returned Lucien; "for I am low--very low."

"Oh, heavens," cried Beauchamp, "the minister quotes Beranger, what
shall we come to next?"

"M. de Chateau-Renaud--M. Maximilian Morrel," said the servant,
announcing two fresh guests.

"Now, then, to breakfast," said Beauchamp; "for, if I remember, you told
me you only expected two persons, Albert."

"Morrel," muttered Albert--"Morrel--who is he?" But before he had
finished, M. de Chateau-Renaud, a handsome young man of thirty,
gentleman all over,--that is, with the figure of a Guiche and the wit
of a Mortemart,--took Albert's hand. "My dear Albert," said he, "let me
introduce to you M. Maximilian Morrel, captain of Spahis, my friend; and
what is more--however the man speaks for himself--my preserver. Salute
my hero, viscount." And he stepped on one side to give place to a young
man of refined and dignified bearing, with large and open brow,
piercing eyes, and black mustache, whom our readers have already seen
at Marseilles, under circumstances sufficiently dramatic not to be
forgotten. A rich uniform, half French, half Oriental, set off his
graceful and stalwart figure, and his broad chest was decorated with
the order of the Legion of Honor. The young officer bowed with easy and
elegant politeness. "Monsieur," said Albert with affectionate courtesy,
"