rose-coloured boudoir wherein she passed the greater part of her life.

Madame d'Arlange conceived a violent friendship for him, and became
eloquent in his praises.

"A most charming young man," she declared, "delicate and sensible! What
a pity he is not born!" (Her ladyship meant born of noble parentage,
but used the phrase as ignoring the fact of the unfortunates who are
not noble having been born at all) "One can receive him though, all
the same; his forefathers were very decent people, and his mother was a
Cottevise who, however, went wrong. I wish him well, and will do all I
can to push him forward."

The strongest proof of friendship he received from her was, that she
condescended to pronounce his name like the rest of the world. She had
preserved that ridiculous affectation of forgetfulness of the names of
people who were not of noble birth, and who in her opinion had no right
to names. She was so confirmed in this habit, that, if by accident she
pronounced such a name correctly, she immediately repeated it with some
ludicrous alteration. During his first visit, M. Daburon was extremely
amused at hearing his name altered every time she addressed him.
Successively she made it Taburon, Dabiron, Maliron, Laliron, Laridon;
but, in three months time, she called him Daburon as distinctly as if he
had been a duke of something, and a lord of somewhere.

Occasionally she exerted herself to prove to the worthy magistrate that
he was a nobleman, or at least ought to be. She would have been happy,
if she could have persuaded him to adopt some title, and have a helmet
engraved upon his visiting cards.

"How is it possible," said she, "that your ancestors, eminent, wealthy,
and influential, never thought of being raised from the common herd
and securing a title for their descendants? Today you would possess a
presentable pedigree.--"

"My ancestors were wise," responded M. Daburon. "They preferred being
foremost among their fellow-citizens to becoming last among the nobles."

Upon which the marchioness explained, and proved to demonstration, that
between the most influential and wealthy citizen and the smallest scion
of nobility, there was an abyss that all the money in the world could
not fill up.

They who were so surprised at the frequency of the magistrate's
visits to this celebrated "relic of the past" did not know that lady's
granddaughter, or, at least, did not recollect her; she went out so
seldom! The old mar