sing. I should not be
surprised if Mr. Neuchatel were to present me to some of the grandees. I
believe them to be all impostors, but still it is pleasant to talk to a
man with a star.

"'Ye stars, which are the poetry of heaven,'

"Byron wrote; a silly line; he should have written,

"'Ye stars, which are the poetry of dress.'"

CHAPTER XXXIV

St. Barbe was not disappointed in his hopes. It was an evening of
glorious success for him. He had even the honour of sitting for a time
by the side of Mrs. Neuchatel, and being full of good claret, he, as he
phrased it, showed his paces; that is to say, delivered himself of some
sarcastic paradoxes duly blended with fulsome flattery. Later in the
evening, he contrived to be presented both to the ambassador and the
cabinet minister, and treated them as if they were demigods; listened
to them as if with an admiration which he vainly endeavoured to repress;
never spoke except to enforce and illustrate the views which they had
condescended to intimate; successfully conveyed to his excellency that
he was conversing with an enthusiast for his exalted profession; and
to the minister that he had met an ardent sympathiser with his noble
career. The ambassador was not dissatisfied with the impression he had
made on one of the foreign correspondents of the "Chuck-Farthing," and
the minister flattered himself that both the literary and the graphic
representations of himself in "Scaramouch" might possibly for the future
be mitigated.

"I have done business to-night," said St. Barbe to Endymion, towards the
close of the evening. "You did not know I had left the old shop? I kept
it close. I could stand it no longer. One has energies, sir, though not
recognised--at least not recognised much," he added thoughtfully. "But
who knows what may happen? The age of mediocrity is not eternal. You see
this thing offered, and I saw an opening. It has come already. You
saw the big-wigs all talking to me? I shall go to Paris now with some
_eclat_. I shall invent a new profession; the literary diplomatist. The
bore is, I know nothing about foreign politics. My line has been the
other way. Never mind; I will read the 'Debats' and the 'Revue des Deux
Mondes,' and make out something. Foreign affairs are all the future, and
my views may be as right as anybody else's; probably more correct, not
so conventional. What a fool I was, Ferrars! I was asked to remain here
to-night and refused! The truth is, I c