The glaring gaslight gave him a
deeper paleness and cut the lines of his face to a sharper edge. He was
talking with great animation, his hands moving constantly in eager
gesture. I was within an ace of springing forward to greet him--so my
heart went out to him--but the sight of his companion restrained me, and
I sat chuckling and wondering in my corner. There they were, large as
life, true to Varvilliers' description; the big stomach and the locket
that a hyperbole, so inevitable as to outstrip mere truth in fidelity,
had called bigger. Besides there were the whiskers, the heavy jowl, the
infinite fatness of the man, a fatness not of mere flesh only, but of
manner, of air, of thought, of soul. There was no room for doubt or
question. This was Coralie's impresario, Coralie's career, her duty, her
destiny; in a word, everything to Coralie that poor little Cousin Elsa
was to me. Nay, your pardon; that I was to Cousin Elsa. I put my cigar
back in my mouth and smoked gravely; it seemed improper to laugh.

The two men sat down at an outer table. Wetter was silent now, and
Struboff (I remembered suddenly that I had seen Coralie described as
Madame Mansoni-Struboff) was talking. I could almost see the words
treacling from his thick lips. What in Heaven's name made him Wetter's
companion? What in Heaven's name made me such a fool as to ask the
question? Men like Struboff can have but one merit, and, to be fair, but
one serious crime. It is the same; they are the husbands of their wives.

I could contain myself no longer. I rose and walked forward. I laid my
hand on Wetter's shoulder, saying:

"My dear friend, have you forgotten me--Baron de Neberhausen?"

[Illustration: "My dear friend, have you forgotten me?"]

He looked up with a start, but when he saw me his eyes softened. He
clasped my hand.

"Neberhausen?" he said.

"Yes; we met in Forstadt."

"To be sure," he laughed. "May I present my friend to you? M. le Baron
de Neberhausen, M. Struboff. You will know Struboff's name. He gives us
the best operas in the world, and the best singing."

"M. Struboff's fame has reached me," said I, sitting down.

Evidently Struboff did not know me; he received the introduction without
any show of deference. I was delighted. I should have seen little of the
true man had he been aware from the first who I was. Things being as
they were, I could flatter him, and he had no motive for flattering me.
A mere baron had no effect on him