an announcement to make to you. I have
fallen desperately in love with mademoiselle."

There was a general gasp. Mr. Smith looked at him, red-faced and
open-mouthed. Miss Christabel blushed furiously and emitted a sound half
between a laugh and a scream. Harry Ralston's eyes flashed.

"My dear sir----" he began.

"Pardon," said Aristide, disarming him with the merry splendour of his
glance. "I do not wish to take mademoiselle from you. My love is
hopeless! I know it. But it will feed me to my dying day. In return for
the joy of this hopeless passion I will not sell you the picture--I give
it to you as a wedding present."

He stood, with the air of a hero, both arms extended towards the amazed
pair of lovers.

"I give it to you," said he. "It is mine. I have no wish but for your
happiness. In my Chateau de Mireilles there are a hundred others."

"This is madness!" said Mr. Smith, bursting with suppressed indignation,
so that his bald head grew scarlet.

"My dear fellow!" said Mr. Harry Ralston. "It is unheard-of generosity
on your part. But we can't accept it."

"Then," said Aristide, advancing dramatically to the picture, "I take it
under my arm, I put it in a hansom cab, and I go with it back to
Languedoc."

Mr. Smith caught him by the wrist and dragged him out of the room.

"You little brute! Do you want your neck broken?"

"Do you want the marriage of your daughter with the rich and Honourable
Harry broken?" asked Aristide.

"Oh, damn! Oh, damn! Oh, damn!" cried Mr. Smith, stamping about
helplessly and half weeping.

Aristide entered the dining-room and beamed on the company.

"The kind Mr. Smith has consented. Mr. Honourable Harry and Miss
Christabel, there is your Corot. And now, may I be permitted?" He rang
the bell. A servant appeared.

"Some champagne to drink to the health of the fiances," he cried. "Lots
of champagne."

Mr. Smith looked at him almost admiringly.

"By Jove!" he muttered. "You _have_ got a nerve."

* * * * *

"_Voila!_" said Aristide, when he had finished the story.

"And did they accept the Corot?" I asked.

"Of course. It is hanging now in the big house in Hampshire. I stayed
with the kind Mr. Smith for six weeks," he added, doubling himself up in
his chair and hugging himself with mirth, "and we became very good
friends. And I was at the wedding."

"And what about their honeymoon visit to Languedoc?"

"Alas!" said Aristide. "The mor