at Madame Jenkins intends to give a little party next
month. If you would do us the honor--"

"I shall be very glad to go to your house, my dear doctor, and if the
Nabob should be there, I should not object to his being presented to
me."

At that moment the usher opened the door.

"Monsieur le Ministre de l'Interieur is in the blue salon. He has but a
word to say to Your Excellency. Monsieur le Prefet de Police is still
waiting below, in the gallery."

"Very good," said the duke, "I will go to him. But I should like to
make a definite arrangement about this costume first. Let us see,
friend What's-your-name, what do we decide about those ruffs? _Au
revoir_, doctor. Nothing to do but keep on with the pearls, is there?"

"Keep on with the pearls," said Jenkins, bowing; and he took his leave,
radiant over the two bits of good fortune that fell to his lot at the
same time--the honor of entertaining the duke, and the pleasure of
gratifying his dear Nabob. The crowd of petitioners through whom he
passed in the ante-chamber was even greater than when he entered; new
arrivals had joined the patient waiters of the first hour, others were
hurrying upstairs, pale-faced and full of business, and in the
courtyard carriages continued to arrive, to range themselves gravely
and solemnly in a double circle, while the question of ruffed sleeves
was discussed upstairs with no less solemnity.

"To the club," said Jenkins to his coachman.

* * *

The coupe rolled along the quays, recrossed the bridges, and turned
into Place de la Concorde, which already wore a different aspect from
that it had worn a short time before. The mist had lifted in the
direction of the Garde-Meuble and the Greek temple of the Madeleine,
revealing here and there the white spray of a fountain, the arcade of a
palace, the top of a statue, the shrubbery of the Tuileries, shivering
by the gates. The veil, not raised but rent in spots, discovered
patches of blue sky: and, on the avenue leading to the Arc de Triomphe,
one could see breaks driving swiftly along, filled with coachmen and
jockeys, dragoons of the Empress's corps, body-guards in gorgeous
fur-lined coats riding two by two in long lines, with a great clanking
of bits and spurs and neighing of fresh horses, all in the light of a
still invisible sun, emerging from the vague depths of the mist,
plunging into it again in masses, like a swiftly-vanishing vision of
th