adly marry her. William Adolphus would be capable of
defying his wife, his mother-in-law, and public opinion. But Coralie, he
explained, cared little for either. Wetter could give her nothing, from
William Adolphus she had already gained the advancement which it was in
his power to secure for her.

"She wanted something new, so she made him bring your Majesty," he
ended, laughing.

"Was my brother-in-law unwilling?"

"Oh, no. He didn't understand," laughed Varvilliers. "He was proud to
bring you."

"It's rather awkward for me. I suppose I oughtn't to have come?"

"Ah, sire, when we have enjoyed ourselves, let us not be ungrateful. She
amused you?"

"She certainly interested me."

He shrugged his shoulders. "What more do you want?" he seemed to ask.
But I was wondering whether I should be justified in lending countenance
to these distractions of William Adolphus. The Frenchman's quick wit
overtook my thoughts.

"If you wish to rescue the Prince from danger, sire," he said, laughing,
"you can't do better than come often."

"It seems to me that I'm in danger of quarrelling either with my sister
or with my brother-in-law."

"If I were you, I should feel myself in a danger more delightful."

"But why not yourself equally, Vicomte? Aren't you in love with her?"

"Not I," he answered, with a laugh and a shake of his head.

"But why not?" I asked, laughing also.

"Can you ask? There is but one possible reason for a man's not being in
love with Coralie Mansoni."

"Tell me it, Vicomte."

"Because he has been, sire."

"A good safeguard, but of no use to me."

"Why, no, not at present," answered Varvilliers.

The carriage drew up at his lodgings. I was not inclined for sleep, and
readily acceded to his request that I should pay him a visit. Having
dismissed the carriage (I was but a little way from my own house), I
mounted the stairs and found myself in a very snug room. He put me in an
armchair and gave me a cigar. We talked long and intimately as the hours
of the night rolled on. He spoke, half in reminiscence, half in merry
rhapsody, of the joys of living, the delight of throwing the reins on
the neck of youth. As I looked at his trim figure, his handsome face,
merry eyes, and dashing air, all that he said seemed very reasonable and
very right; there was a good defence for it at the bar of nature's
tribunal. It was honest too, free from cant, affectation, and pretence;
it was a recognition of facts, and