s upon
which the most elaborate coat-of-arms could be painted at an hour's
notice. Nor was there any difficulty whatever in immediately procuring
all the accessories of a life of grandeur--all that is needful to dazzle
the unsuspecting, to throw dust in people's eyes, and to dupe one's
chance acquaintances. All these things were provided without delay, by
the month, by the day or by the hour, just as the applicant pleased.
But there was no such thing as credit there. Bills were presented every
evening, to those lodgers who did not pay in advance: and he who could
not, or would not, settle the score, even if he were Excellency or
Prince, was requested to depart at once, and his trunks were held as
security.

When M. Fortunat entered the office of the hotel, a woman, with a crafty
looking face, was holding a conference with an elderly gentleman, who
had a black velvet skullcap on his head, and a magnifying glass in his
hand. They applied their eyes to the glass in turn, and were engaged in
examining some very handsome diamonds, which had no doubt been offered
in lieu of money by some noble but impecunious foreigner. On hearing M.
Fortunat enter, the woman looked up.

"What do you desire, monsieur?" she inquired, politely.

"I wish to see Madame Lucy Huntley."

The woman did not reply at first, but raised her eyes to the ceiling, as
if she were reading there the list of all the foreigners of distinction
who honored the Hotel de Homburg by their presence at that moment. "Lucy
Huntley!" she repeated. "I don't recollect that name! I don't think
there's such a person in the house--Lucy Huntley! What kind of a person
is she?"

For many reasons M. Fortunat could not answer. First of all, he did
not know. But he was not in the least disconcerted, and he avoided the
question without the slightest embarrassment, at the same time trying to
quicken the woman's faulty memory. "The person I wished to see was here
on Friday, between three and six in the afternoon; and she was waiting
for a visitor with an anxiety which could not possibly have escaped your
notice."

This detail quickened the memory of the man with the magnifying
glass--none other than the woman's husband and landlord of the hotel.
"Ah! the gentleman is speaking of the lady of No. 2--you remember--the
same who insisted upon having the large private room."

"To be sure," replied the wife; "where could my wits have been!" And
turning to M. Fortunat: "Excuse my forg