porter of La Cannebriere. You may
well be embarrassed by _parvenus_ like us who lend millions to kings,
and whom _grand seigneurs_ like Mora do not blush to admit to their
tables."

"Oh, in the country," chuckled M. Francis, with a sneer that showed his
old tooth.

The other rose, quite red in the face. He was about to give way to his
anger when M. Louis made a gesture with his hand to signify that he had
something to say, and M. Noel sat down immediately, putting his hand to
his ear like all the rest of us in order to lose nothing that fell from
those august lips.

"It is true," remarked the personage, speaking with the slightest
possible movement of his mouth and continuing to take his wine in little
sips, "it is true that we received the Nabob at Grandbois the other
week. There even happened something very funny on the occasion. We have
a quantity of mushrooms in the second park, and his excellency amuses
himself sometimes by gathering them. Now at dinner was served a large
dish of fungi. There were present, what's his name--I forget, what is
it?--Marigny, the Minister of the Interior, Monpavon, and your master,
my dear Noel. The mushrooms went the round of the table, they looked
nice, the gentlemen helped themselves freely, except M. le Duc, who
cannot digest them and out of politeness feels it his duty to remark to
his guests: 'Oh, you know, it is not that I am suspicious of them. They
are perfectly safe. It was I myself who gathered them.'

"'_Sapristi!_' said Monpavon, laughing, 'then, my dear Auguste, allow me
to be excused from tasting them.' Marigny, less familiar, glanced at his
plate out of the corner of his eye.

"'But, yes, Monpavon, I assure you. They look extremely good, these
mushrooms. I am truly sorry that I have no appetite left.'

"The duke remained very serious.

"'Come, M. Jansoulet, I sincerely hope that you are not going to offer
me this affront, you also. Mushrooms selected by myself.'

"'Oh, Excellency, the very idea of such a thing! Why, I would eat them
with my eyes closed.'

"So you see what sort of luck he had, the poor Nabob, the first time
that he dined with us. Duperron, who was serving opposite him, told us
all about it in the pantry. It seems there could have been nothing more
comic than to see the Jansoulet stuffing himself with mushrooms, and
rolling terrified eyes, while the others sat watching him curiously
without touching their plates. He sweated under the effort, po