n "_mode_" with a very considerable
border of pinkish silk stocking seen above the margin of his low boots
"_a revers_" and a most inordinate amount of coat-collar, lounged along
the Boulevard Italiens, occasionally ogling the passers-by, but, oftener
still, throwing an admiring glance at himself, as the splendid windows
of plate-glass reflected back his figure. His whole air and mien
exhibited the careless _insouciance_ of one with whom the world went
easily, asking little from him of exertion, less still of forethought.

He had just reached the angle of the Rue Vi-vienne, and was about to
turn, when two persons advanced towards him, whose very different style
of dress and appearance bespoke very different treatment at the hands of
Fortune. They were both young, and, although palpably men of a certain
rank and condition, were equally what is called out-at-elbows; hats that
exhibited long intimacy with rain and wind, shoes of very questionable
colour, coats suspiciously buttoned about the throat, being all signs of
circumstances that were far from flourishing.

"Ah, Chopard, is't thou?" said the fashionably dressed man, advancing
with open hand to each, and speaking in the "tu" of intimate friendship,
"And thou, too, Brissole, how goes it? What an age since we have met!
Art long in Paris?"

"About two hours," said the first. "Just as I stepped out of the Place
des Victoires I met our old friend here; and, strange enough, now
we have come upon _you_; three old schoolfellows thus assembled at a
hazard!"

"A minute later, and we should have missed each other," said Brissole.
"I was about to take my place in the _malle_ for Nancy."

"To leave Paris?" exclaimed both the others.

"Even so--to leave Paris! I've had enough of it."

"Come, what do you mean by this?" said Cho-pard; "it sounds very like
discouragement to me, who have come up here with all manner of notions
of fortune, wealth, and honours."

"So much the worse for you," said Brissole, gaily; "I've tried it for
five years, and will try it no longer. I was vaudevillist, journalist,
novelist, feuilletonist--I was the glory of the Odeon--the prop of the
'Moniteur'--the hope of the 'Siecle'--and look at me----"

"And thou?" said the fashionable, addressing him called Chopard.

"I have just had a little opera damned at Lyons, and have come up to try
what can be done here."

"Poor devil!" exclaimed Brissole, shrugging his shoulders; then, turning
abruptly tow