ng months were passed, De Marsay growing thin and
wretched from fretting, and by his despondency occasioning his friends
the deepest solicitude. At length, one of his relatives resolved on a
bold step. He went direct to the Rue de Marais and demanded to speak
with the dyer. It is not very easy to say how he opened a negotiation of
such delicacy; that he did so with consummate tact and skill there can
be no doubt, for he so worked oh the dyer's compassion by the picture
of a poor young fellow utterly ruined in his career, unable to face
the world, to meet his regiment, even to appear before the enemy, being
blue! that the dyer at last confessed his pity, but at the same time
cried out, "What can I do? there is no getting it off again!"

'"No getting it off again! do you really tell me that?" exclaimed the
wretched negotiator.

'"Impossible! that's the patent," said the other with an ill-dissembled
pride. "I have spent seven years in the invention. I only hit upon it
last October. Its grand merit is that it resists all attempts to efface
it."

'"And do you tell me," cries the friend, in terror, "that this poor
fellow must go down to his grave in that odious--well, I mean no
offence--in that unholy tint?"

'"There is but one thing in my power, sir."

'"Well, what is it, in the name of mercy? Out with it, and name your
price."

'"I can make him a very charming green! _un beau vert_, monsieur."'

When the baronet had ceased to laugh at the anecdote, Purcell resumed:
'And now for the application. It is always a good thing in life to be
able to become _un beau vert_, even though the colour should not quite
suit you. I say this, because for the present project I can augur no
success. The world has lived wonderfully fast, Sir Capel, since you and
I were boys. That same Revolution in France that has cut off so many
heads, has left those that still remain on men's shoulders very much
wiser than they used to be. Now nobody in Europe wants this family
again; they have done their part; and they are as much bygones as
chain-armour or a battle-axe.'

'The rightful and the legitimate are never bygone--never obsolete,' said
the other resolutely.

'A'n't they, faith! The guillotine and the lantern are the answers to
that. I do not mean to say it must be always this way. There may, though
I see no signs of it, come a reaction yet; but for the present men have
taken a practical turn, and they accept nothing, esteem nothing, emplo