ards the other, he said, "And what is thy luck? for, so far
as externals go, thou seemest to have done better."

"Ay, Jerome," chimed in Chopard, "tell us, how hast thou fared?--thou
wert ever a fortunate fellow."

"Pretty well," said he, laughing. "I've just come from St.
Cloud--they've made me King of Westphalia!"

"The devil they have!" exclaimed Chopard; "and dost know, _par hazard_,
where thy kingdom lies on the map?"

"Why should he torment himself about that?" said Brissole. "It's enough
to know they have capital hams there."

"What if we sup together," said Jerome, "and taste one? I am most
anxious to baptize my new Royalty in a glass of wine. Here we are in the
Rue Taibout--this is Villaret's. Come in, gentlemen--I'm the host. Make
your minds easy about the future: you, Brissole, I appoint to the office
of my Private Secretary. Chopard, you shall be _Maitre de Chapelle_."

"Agreed," cried the others gaily; and with a hearty shake of hands was
the contract ratified.

Supper was quickly prepared, and, in its splendour and profusion,
pronounced, by both the guests, worthy of a king. Villaret could
do these things handsomely, and as he was told expense was of no
consequence, the entertainment was really magnificent. Nor was the
spirit of the guests inferior to the feast. They were brilliant in wit,
and overflowing in candour; concealing nothing of their past lives that
would amuse or interest, each vied with the other in good stories
and ludicrous adventures--all their bygone vicissitudes so pleasantly
contrasting with the brilliant future they now saw opening before them.
They drank long life and reign to the King of Westphalia in bumpers of
foaming champagne.

The pleasant hours flew rapidly past--bright visions of the time to come
lending their charm to the happiness, and making their enjoyment seem
but the forerunner of many days and nights of festive delight. At last
came day-break, and, even by the flickering of reason left, they saw it
was time to separate.

"Bring the bill," said Jerome to the exhausted-looking waiter, who
speedily appeared with a small slip of paper ominously marked "eight
hundred francs."

"_Diable!_" exclaimed Jerome; "that is smart, and I have no money about
me. Come, Brissole, this falls among your duties--pay the fellow."

"_Parbleu_, then--it comes somewhat too soon. I am not yet installed,
and have not got the key of our treasury."

"No matter--pay it out of thine own