nge and great. Women generally were so much the more smitten
with this original person because he was not to be caught by their
flatteries, however adroit, nor by the wiles with which they circumvent
the strongest men and corrode the steel temper. Their Parisian's
grimaces were lost upon M. de Montriveau; his nature only responded to
the sonorous vibration of lofty thought and feeling. And he would very
promptly have been dropped but for the romance that hung about his
adventures and his life; but for the men who cried him up behind his
back; but for a woman who looked for a triumph for her vanity, the woman
who was to fill his thoughts.

For these reasons the Duchesse de Langeais' curiosity was no less lively
than natural. Chance had so ordered it that her interest in the man
before her had been aroused only the day before, when she heard the
story of one of M. de Montriveau's adventures, a story calculated to
make the strongest impression upon a woman's ever-changing fancy.

During M. de Montriveau's voyage of discovery to the sources of the
Nile, he had had an argument with one of his guides, surely the most
extraordinary debate in the annals of travel. The district that he
wished to explore could only be reached on foot across a tract of
desert. Only one of his guides knew the way; no traveller had penetrated
before into that part of the country, where the undaunted officer hoped
to find a solution of several scientific problems. In spite of the
representations made to him by the guide and the older men of the place,
he started upon the formidable journey. Summoning up courage, already
highly strung by the prospect of dreadful difficulties, he set out in
the morning.

The loose sand shifted under his feet at every step; and when, at the
end of a long day's march, he lay down to sleep on the ground, he had
never been so tired in his life. He knew, however, that he must be up
and on his way before dawn next day, and his guide assured him that they
should reach the end of their journey towards noon. That promise kept
up his courage and gave him new strength. In spite of his sufferings,
he continued his march, with some blasphemings against science; he was
ashamed to complain to his guide, and kept his pain to himself. After
marching for a third of the day, he felt his strength failing, his feet
were bleeding, he asked if they should reach the place soon. "In an
hour's time," said the guide. Armand braced himself for