ed to say. Come, I see you are getting on in the
world, so much the better. I would have given you more," he went on,
"but it is all I have in the till. I should have to go upstairs and I
cannot leave the shop, customers drop in every moment."

"You were saying that business was not flourishing?"

Uncle Monetti pretended not to hear, and said to his nephew who was
pocketing the twenty nine sous:

"Do not be in a hurry about repayment."

"What a screw," said Rodolphe, bolting. "Ah!" he continued, "there are
still thirty-one sous lacking. Where am I to find them? I know, let's be
off to the crossroads of Providence."

This was the name bestowed by Rodolphe on the most central point in
Paris, that is to say, the Palais Royal, a spot where it is almost
impossible to remain ten minutes without meeting ten people of one's
acquaintance, creditors above all. Rodolphe therefore went and stationed
himself at the entrance to the Palais Royal. This time Providence was
long in coming. At last Rodolphe caught sight of it. Providence had a
white hat, a green coat, and a gold headed cane--a well dressed
Providence.

It was a rich and obliging fellow, although a phalansterian.

"I am delighted to see you," said he to Rodolphe, "come and walk a
little way with me; we can have a talk."

"So I am to have the infliction of the phalanstere," murmured Rodolphe,
suffering himself to be led away from the wearer of the white hat, who,
indeed, phalanstered him to the utmost.

As they drew near the Pont des Arts Rodolphe said to his companion--

"I must leave you, not having sufficient to pay the toll."

"Nonsense," said the other, catching hold of Rodolphe and throwing two
sous to the toll keeper.

"This is the right moment," thought the editor of "The Scarf of Iris,"
as they crossed the bridge. Arrived at the further end in front of the
clock of the Institute, Rodolphe stopped short, pointed to the dial
with a despairing gesture, and exclaimed:--

"Confound it all, a quarter to five! I am done for."

"What is the matter?" cried his astonished friend.

"The matter is," said Rodolphe, "that, thanks to your dragging me here
in spite of myself, I have missed an appointment."

"An important one?"

"I should think so; money that I was to call for at five o'clock
at--Batignolles. I shall never be able to get there. Hang it; what am I
to do?"

"Why," said the phalansterian, "nothing is simpler; come home with me
and I will lend yo