not hold much by social gatherings, and it was only from a
sense of duty that she invited a few friends, about the time of
Lucille's birthday--her twenty-first birthday, indeed--to pass some
days at La Pauline.

These friends were bidden for the 26th December, and among them were
the Baron Giraud and his son Alphonse.

Alphonse arrived on horseback in a costume which would have done
credit to the head-groom of a racing stable. The right-hand twist of
his mustache was eminently successful, but the left-hand extremity
drooped with a lamentable effect, which he was not able to verify
until after he had greeted the ladies, whom he met in the garden, as
he rode toward the chateau.

"My father," he cried, as he descended from the saddle, "that dear old
man, arrives on the instant. He is in a carriage--a close carriage,
and he smokes. Picture it to yourselves--when there is this air to
breathe--when there are horses to ride. Madame la Vicomtesse"--he took
that lady's hand--"what a pleasure! Mademoiselle Lucille--as beautiful
as ever."

"Even more so," replied Lucille with her gay laugh. "What exquisite
riding-boots! But are they not a little tight, Alphonse?"

For Lucille could not perceive why playmates should suddenly begin to
monsieur and mademoiselle each other after years of intimacy. This was
the rock in that path which Alphonse, like the rest of us, found
anything but smooth. Lucille was so gay. It is difficult to make
serious love to a person who is not even impressed by English
riding-boots.

[Illustration: "WHAT EXQUISITE RIDING-BOOTS! BUT ARE THEY NOT A LITTLE
TIGHT, ALPHONSE?"]

At this moment the Baron's carriage appeared on the zig-zag road below
the chateau, and Madame de Clericy's face assumed an expression of
placid resignation. In due time the vehicle, with its gorgeous
yellow wheels, reached the level space upon which the party stood. The
Baron Giraud emerged from the satin-lined recesses of the dainty
carriage like a stout caterpillar from a rose, a stumpy little man
with no neck and a red face. A straggling dyed mustache failed to hide
an unpleasant mouth, with lips too red and loose. Cunning little dark
eyes relieved the countenance of the Baron Giraud from mere animalism.
They were intelligent little eyes, that looked to no high things and
made no mistake in low places. But the Baron Giraud did not make one
proud of the human race. This was a man who handled millions with
consummate skill and