In reality that did not mean much. Jansoulet arraying himself in
Jenkins' ribbon would speedily be punished for unlawfully wearing a
decoration. But a _coup de theatre_ is not necessarily logical; this
particular one led to an effusion of sentiment, embraces, a generous
combat between the two men, the result being that Jenkins restored the
objects to his pocket, talking about protests, letters to the
newspapers. The Nabob was obliged to stop him again.

"Do nothing of the kind, you rascal. In the first place, it would
stand in my way another time. Who knows? perhaps on the 15th of next
August--"

"Oh! I never thought of that," cried Jenkins, jumping at the idea. He
put forth his arm, as in David's _Serment_: "I swear it by my sacred
honor!"

The subject dropped there. At breakfast the Nabob did not refer to it
and was as cheerful as usual. His good humor lasted through the day;
and de Gery, to whom that scene had been a revelation of the real
Jenkins, an explanation of the satirical remarks and restrained wrath
of Felicia Ruys when she spoke of the doctor, asked himself to no
purpose how he could open his dear master's eyes concerning that
scheming hypocrite. He should have known, however, that the men of the
South, all effusiveness on the surface, are never so utterly blind, so
deluded as to resist the wise results of reflection. That evening the
Nabob opened a shabby little portfolio, badly worn at the corners, in
which for ten years past he had manoeuvred his millions, minuting his
profits and his expenses in hieroglyphics comprehensible to himself
alone. He calculated for a moment, then turned to de Gery.

"Do you know what I am doing, my dear Paul?" he asked.

"No, monsieur."

"I have just been reckoning"--and his mocking glance, eloquent of his
Southern origin, belied his good-humored smile--"I have just been
reckoning that I have spent four hundred and thirty thousand francs to
obtain that decoration for Jenkins."

Four hundred and thirty thousand francs! And the end was not yet.

IX.

GRANDMAMMA.

Three times a week, in the evening, Paul de Gery appeared to take his
lesson in bookkeeping in the Joyeuse dining-room, not far from the
small salon where the little family had burst upon him at his first
visit; so that, while he was being initiated into all the mysteries of
"debit and credit," with his eyes fixed on his white-cravated
instructor, he listened in spite of himself to the faint so