sequel of our
acquaintance, I could by no means justify. Set me down as a lunatic with
intervals of sanity."

"Oh, I guess you know what you are about," said Newman.

"When I am sane, I am very sane; that I admit," M. de Bellegarde
answered. "But I didn't come here to talk about myself. I should like to
ask you a few questions. You allow me?"

"Give me a specimen," said Newman.

"You live here all alone?"

"Absolutely. With whom should I live?"

"For the moment," said M. de Bellegarde with a smile "I am asking
questions, not answering them. You have come to Paris for your
pleasure?"

Newman was silent a while. Then, at last, "Every one asks me that!" he
said with his mild slowness. "It sounds so awfully foolish."

"But at any rate you had a reason."

"Oh, I came for my pleasure!" said Newman. "Though it is foolish, it is
true."

"And you are enjoying it?"

Like any other good American, Newman thought it as well not to truckle
to the foreigner. "Oh, so-so," he answered.

M. de Bellegarde puffed his cigar again in silence. "For myself," he
said at last, "I am entirely at your service. Anything I can do for you
I shall be very happy to do. Call upon me at your convenience. Is there
any one you desire to know--anything you wish to see? It is a pity you
should not enjoy Paris."

"Oh, I do enjoy it!" said Newman, good-naturedly. "I'm much obligated to
you."

"Honestly speaking," M. de Bellegarde went on, "there is something
absurd to me in hearing myself make you these offers. They represent
a great deal of goodwill, but they represent little else. You are a
successful man and I am a failure, and it's a turning of the tables to
talk as if I could lend you a hand."

"In what way are you a failure?" asked Newman.

"Oh, I'm not a tragical failure!" cried the young man with a laugh.
"I have fallen from a height, and my fiasco has made no noise. You,
evidently, are a success. You have made a fortune, you have built up an
edifice, you are a financial, commercial power, you can travel about
the world until you have found a soft spot, and lie down in it with
the consciousness of having earned your rest. Is not that true? Well,
imagine the exact reverse of all that, and you have me. I have done
nothing--I can do nothing!"

"Why not?"

"It's a long story. Some day I will tell you. Meanwhile, I'm right, eh?
You are a success? You have made a fortune? It's none of my business,
but, in short, you are rich?"

"T