ubmit yourself to be a
mere guest at the banquet of life, and never a host--one whose place
at the table is assigned him, not taken by right--such, in a word, as
I am--why, then, the Abbe's frock is an easy dress, and a safe passport
besides.'

With a sort of unintentional carelessness, that seemed frankness itself,
the Abbe glided into a little narrative of his own early life, and how,
with a wide choice of a career before him, he had, half in indolence,
half in self-indulgence, adopted the gown.

'Stern thinkers call men like me mere idlers in the vineyard, drones
in the great human hive: but we are not; we have our uses just as every
other luxury. We are to society what the bouquet is to the desert; our
influence on mankind is not the less real, that its exercise attracts
little notice.'

'And what am I to be, what to do?' asked Gerald proudly.

'Imagine the Marquise de Bauffremont to be Royalty, and you are
a courtier; you are of her household, in attendance on her great
receptions; you accompany her on visits of ceremony--your rank securing
you all the deference that is accorded to birth, and admission to the
first circles in Paris.'

'Is not this service menial?' asked he quickly.

'It is not thus the world regards it. The Melcours, the Frontignards,
the Montrouilles are to be found at this moment in these ranks.'

'But they are recognised by these very names,' cried Gerald; 'but who
knows _me_, or what title do _I_ bear?'

'You will be the Chevalier de Fitzgerald; the Marquise has influence
enough at court to have the title confirmed. Believe me,' added he,
smiling blandly, 'everything has been provided for--all forethought
taken already.'

'But shall I be free to abandon this--servitude' (the word would out,
though he hesitated to utter it)--'if I find it onerous or unpleasant?
Am I under no obligation or pledge?'

'None; you are the arbiter of your own fortune at any moment you wish.'

'You smile, sir, and naturally enough, that one poor and friendless as
I am should make such conditions; but remember, my liberty is all my
wealth--so long as I have that, so long am I master of myself: free to
come and go, I am not lost to self-esteem. I accept,' and so saying, he
gave his hand to the Abbe, who pressed it cordially, in ratification of
the compact.

'You will return with me to Florence, Monsieur le Chevalier,' said the
Abbe, rising, and assuming a degree of courteous respect which Gerald at
once s