with good wine, with the bindings of books, with the Almanach de Gotha,
with the best shops, the best hotels, the hours of railway-trains. He
could order a dinner almost as well as Mr. Luce, and it was probable
that as his experience accumulated he would be a worthy successor to
that gentleman, whose rather grim politics he also advocated in a soft
and innocent voice. He had some charming rooms in Paris, decorated with
old Spanish altar-lace, the envy of his female friends, who declared
that his chimney-piece was better draped than the high shoulders of many
a duchess. He usually, however, spent a part of every winter at Pau, and
had once passed a couple of months in the United States.

He took a great interest in Isabel and remembered perfectly the walk at
Neufchatel, when she would persist in going so near the edge. He seemed
to recognise this same tendency in the subversive enquiry that I quoted
a moment ago, and set himself to answer our heroine's question with
greater urbanity than it perhaps deserved. "What does it lead to, Miss
Archer? Why Paris leads everywhere. You can't go anywhere unless you
come here first. Every one that comes to Europe has got to pass through.
You don't mean it in that sense so much? You mean what good it does you?
Well, how can you penetrate futurity? How can you tell what lies ahead?
If it's a pleasant road I don't care where it leads. I like the road,
Miss Archer; I like the dear old asphalte. You can't get tired of
it--you can't if you try. You think you would, but you wouldn't;
there's always something new and fresh. Take the Hotel Drouot, now;
they sometimes have three and four sales a week. Where can you get such
things as you can here? In spite of all they say I maintain they're
cheaper too, if you know the right places. I know plenty of places,
but I keep them to myself. I'll tell you, if you like, as a particular
favour; only you mustn't tell any one else. Don't you go anywhere
without asking me first; I want you to promise me that. As a general
thing avoid the Boulevards; there's very little to be done on the
Boulevards. Speaking conscientiously--sans blague--I don't believe
any one knows Paris better than I. You and Mrs. Touchett must come and
breakfast with me some day, and I'll show you my things; je ne vous dis
que ca! There has been a great deal of talk about London of late; it's
the fashion to cry up London. But there's nothing in it--you can't
do anything in London. No Lo