of no
consequence, and neglecting to give me his address. And he went his way
well satisfied, and the driver went his, also well satisfied; and I went
mine, infinitely better satisfied, I imagine, than either of them.

"Well, I had got rid of Madam Waldoborough's carriage, and learned a
lesson which, I think, will last me the rest of my life. If ever again
I run after great folks, or place myself in a false position through
folly or cowardice, may the Fates confound me! But I must haste and tell
you the curious _denouement_ of the affair.

"I was not so anxious to cultivate Madam's acquaintance _after_ riding
in her carriage, you may well believe. For months I did not see her. At
last my Todworth cousin and her yellow-complexioned husband came to
town, and I went with my uncle to call upon them at Meurice's Hotel.
They were delighted to see me, and fondly pressed me to come and take a
room adjoining their suite, as I did at Cox's. A card was brought in. My
cousin smiled, and directed that the visitor should be admitted. There
was a rustle,--a volume of flounces came sweeping in,--a well-remembered
voice cried, 'My dear Louise!'--and my Todworth cousin was clasped in
the buxom embrace of Madam Waldoborough.

"But what did I behold? Following in Madam's wake, like a skiff towed at
the stern of a rushing side-wheel steamer, a dapper little old man, a
withered little old man, a gayly smiling little old man, whose
countenance was somehow strangely familiar to me. I considered him a
moment, and the scene in the Rue St. Lazare, with the _coupe_ driver and
the man with the pocket-book, flashed across my mind. This was the man!
I remembered him well; but he had evidently forgotten me.

"Madam released Louise from her divine large arms, and greeted the
yellow-complexioned one. Then she was introduced to my uncle. Then the
bride said, 'You know my cousin Herbert, I believe?'

"'Ah, yes!' says the Waldoborough, who had glanced at me curiously, but
doubtfully, 'I recognize him now!' giving me a smile and two fingers. 'I
thought I had seen him somewhere. You have been to one or two of my
receptions, haven't you?'

"'I have not yet had that pleasure,' said I.

"'Ah, I remember now! You called one morning, didn't you? And we went
somewhere together,--where did we go?--or was it some other gentleman?'

"I said I thought it must have been some other gentleman; for indeed I
could hardly believe now that I was that fool.

"'Very