nize them," said the elder lady with a
smile.

"Not socially, madame. They exist as mechanical factors of the
legislative machine; but that is all." He swelled as if the blood of the
Montmorencys and the Colignys boiled in his veins. "We do not ask them
into our drawing rooms. We do not allow them to marry our daughters. We
only salute them with cold politeness when we pass them in the street."

"It's astonishing," said Miss Errington, "how strongly the aristocratic
principle exists in republican France. Now, there's our friend, the
Comte de Lussigny, for instance----"

A frown momentarily darkened the cloudless brow of Aristide Pujol. He
did not like the Comte de Lussigny----

"With Monsieur de Lussigny," he interposed, "it is a matter of
prejudice, not of principle."

"And with you?"

"The reasoned philosophy of a lifetime, mademoiselle," answered
Aristide. He turned to Mrs. Errington.

"How long have you known Monsieur de Lussigny, madame?"

She looked at her daughter. "It was in Monte Carlo the winter before
last, wasn't it, Betty? Since then we have met him frequently in
England and Paris. We came across him, just lately, at Trouville. I
think he's charming, don't you?"

"He's a great gambler," said Aristide.

Betty Errington laughed again. "But so are you. So is mamma. So am I, in
my poor little way."

"We gamble for amusement," said Aristide loftily.

"I'm sure I don't," cried Miss Betty, with merry eyes--and she looked
adorable--"When I put my despised five-franc piece down on the table I
want desperately to win, and when the horrid croupier rakes it up I want
to hit him--Oh! I want to hit him hard."

"And when you win?"

"I'm afraid I don't think of the croupier at all," said Miss Betty.

Her mother smiled indulgently and exchanged a glance with Aristide.
This pleased him; there was an agreeable little touch of intimacy in
it. It confirmed friendly relations with the mother. What were his
designs as regards the daughter he did not know. They were not evil,
certainly. For all his southern blood, Latin traditions and
devil-may-care upbringing, Aristide, though perhaps not reaching our
divinely set and therefore unique English standard of morality, was a
decent soul; further, partly through his pedagogic sojourn among them,
and partly through his childish adoration of the frank, fair-cheeked,
northern goddesses talking the quick, clear speech, who passed him by
when he was a hunted little devil