op. "Not the sangue puro, you'd say; rather sallied with
XXX. But what does that signify? you've quarterings enough for two."

"Much good the quarterings do me. No, thank you," said Falkenstein
bitterly. "I'm not going to sell myself, though my dear friends would
insinuate that I was sold already to a gentleman who never quits hold of
his bargains. I've fetters enough now too heavy by half to add
matrimonial handcuffs to them."

"Right, old boy," said Harry. "The Cashranger hops and vats, even done
in the brightest parvenu _or_, would scarcely look well blazoned on the
royal _gules_. Come, sit down. Where are you going?"

"He's going to Eulalie Brown's, I bet," said Bevan. "Nonsense, Waldemar;
throw her over, and stay and take your revenge--it's so early."

"No, thank you," said Falkenstein briefly. "By the way, I suppose you
all go to Cashranger's to-morrow?"

"Make a point of it, answered Godolphin. I feel I'm sinning against my
Order to visit him, but really his Lafitte's so good----I'm sorry you
_will_ leave us, Waldemar, but I know I might as well try to move the
Marble Arch as try to turn you."

"Indeed I never set up for a Roman, Harry. The deuce take this pipe, it
won't light. Good night to you all." And leaving them drinking hard,
laughing loud, and telling _grivois_ tales before they sat down to play
in all its delirious delight, he sprang into a hanson, and drove, not to
Eulalie Brown's _petit souper_, but to his own rooms in Duke Street, St.
James's.

Falkenstein's governor, some two-score years before, had got in
mauvaise odeur in Vienna for some youthful escapade at court; powerful
as his princely family was, had been obliged to fly the country; and,
coming over here, entered himself at the Bar, and, setting himself to
work with characteristic energy, had, wonderful to relate, made a
fortune at it. A fine, gallant, courtly _ancien noble_ was the Count,
haughty and passionate at times, after the manner of the house; fond of
his younger son Waldemar, who at school had tanned boys twice his size;
rode his pony in at the finish; smoked, swam, and otherwise conducted
himself, till all the rest of the boys worshipped him, though I believe
the masters generally attributed to him more _diablerie_ than divinity.
But of late, unluckily, his father had been much dominated over by
Waldemar's three sisters, ladies of a chill and High Church turn of
mind, and by his brother, who in early life had been a prize boy