was twenty-one, the Paris that Grevin drew was in the splendour
of an extravagant life that she was never to see again, and never has.
One could _amuse_ one's self then--ah! _Dame, oui!_

There is no emperor now to keep Paris gay.

What suppers at Vefour's! What a brilliant life there was in those days
under the arcades of the dear old Palais Royal, the gay world going
daily to this mondaine cloister to see and be seen--to dine and
wine--to make conquests of the heart and dance daylight quadrilles.

Paris was ordered to be daily _en fete_ and the host at the Tuileries
saw to it that the gaiety did not flag. It was one way at least from
keeping the populace from cutting one another's throats, which they did
later with amazing ferocity.

There were in those good old days under Louis Napoleon plenty of places
to gamble and spend the inherited gold. Ah! it was Rabelaisian enough!
What an age to have been the recipient of a million at twenty-one! It
was like being a king with no responsibilities. No wonder de Savignac
left the university--he had no longer any need of it. He dined now at
the Maison Doree and was seen nightly at the "Bal Mabille" or the
"Closerie des Lilas," focussing his gold-rimmed monocle on the flying
feet and lace _frou-frous_ of "Diane la Sournoise," or roaring with
laughter as he chucked gold louis into the satined lap of some
"Francine" or "Cora" amid the blare of the band, and the flash of
jewels strung upon fair arms and fairer necks of woman who went nightly
to the "Bal Mabille" in smart turnouts and the costliest gowns money
could buy--and after the last mad quadrille was ended, on he went to
supper at Bignon's where more gaiety reigned until blue dawn, and where
the women were still laughing and merry and danced as easily on the
table as on the floor.

What a time, I say, to have inherited a million! And how many good
friends he had! Painters and musicians, actors and wits (and there
_were_ some in those days)--no king ever gathered around him a jollier
band.

It was from one of these henchmen of his that de Savignac purchased his
chateau (long since emptied of its furniture)--from a young nobleman
pressed hard for his debts, like most young noblemen are--and so the
great chateau close to my Village of Vagabonds, and known for miles
around, became de Savignac's.

What house parties he gave then!--men and women of talent flocked under
his hospitable roof--indeed there was no lack of talent