of his head,
drew his chair near to the financier's, stretched his limbs with the
ease of a man making himself at home, and fixing his calm bright eyes
quietly on Louvier, said, with a bland smile,--

"My dear old friend, do you not remember me? You are less altered than I
am."

Louvier stared hard and long; his lip fell, his cheek paled, and at last
he faltered out, "Ciel! is it possible! Victor, the Vicomte de Mauleon?"

"At your service, my dear Louvier."

There was a pause; the financier was evidently confused and embarrassed,
and not less evidently the visit of the "dear old friend" was unwelcome.

"Vicomte," he said at last, "this is indeed a surprise; I thought you
had long since quitted Paris for good."

"'L'homme propose,' etc. I have returned, and mean to enjoy the rest of
my days in the metropolis of the Graces and the Pleasures. What though
we are not so young as we were, Louvier,--we have more vigour in us than
the new generation; and though it may no longer befit us to renew the
gay carousals of old, life has still excitements as vivid for the social
temperament and ambitious mind. Yes, the roi des viveurs returns to
Paris for a more solid throne than he filled before."

"Are you serious?"

"As serious as the French gayety will permit one to be."

"Alas, Monsieur le Vicomte! can you flatter yourself that you will
regain the society you have quitted, and the name you have--"

Louvier stopped short; something in the Vicomte's eye daunted him.

"The name I have laid aside for convenience of travel. Princes travel
incognito, and so may a simple gentilhomme. 'Regain my place in
society,' say you? Yes; it is not that which troubles me."

"What does?"

"The consideration whether on a very modest income I can be sufficiently
esteemed for myself to render that society more pleasant than ever. Ah,
mon cher! why recoil? why so frightened? Do you think I am going to ask
you for money? Have I ever done so since we parted; and did I ever do
so before without repaying you? Bah! you roturiers are worse than the
Bourbons. You never learn or unlearn. 'Fors non mutat genus.'"

The magnificent millionaire, accustomed to the homage of grandees from
the Faubourg and lions from the Chaussee d'Antin, rose to his feet in
superb wrath, less at the taunting words than at the haughtiness of mien
with which they were uttered.

"Monsieur, I cannot permit you to address me in that tone. Do you mean
to insult me?"

"