seraglio, and surrounded by my slaves. You do not know
Monsieur de Bonneval, ladies: he is a pasha of three tails, who, like
me, could not bear romances, but who understood how to live. Heaven
preserve me from such a fate as his!"

"Yes, it is I, captain," said D'Harmental, unable to prevent laughing at
the grotesque group which presented itself. "I see you did not give me a
false address, and I congratulate you on your veracity."

"Welcome, chevalier," said the captain. "Ladies, I beg you to serve
monsieur with the grace which distinguishes you, and to sing him
whatever songs he likes. Sit down, chevalier, and eat and drink as if
you were at home, particularly as it is your horse we are eating and
drinking. He is already more than half gone, poor animal, but the
remains are good."

"Thank you, captain, I have just dined; and I have only one word to say
to you, if you will permit it."

"No, pardieu! I do not permit it," said the captain, "unless it is about
another engagement--that would come before everything. La Normande, give
me my sword."

"No, captain; it is on business," interrupted D'Harmental.

"Oh! if it is on business, I am your humble servant; but I am a greater
tyrant than the tyrants of Thebes or Corinth--Archias, Pelopidas,
Leonidas, or any other that ends in 'as,' who put off business till
to-morrow. I have enough money to last till to-morrow evening; then,
after to-morrow, business."

"But at least after to-morrow, captain, I may count upon you?"

"For life or death, chevalier."

"I believe that the adjournment is prudent."

"Prudentissimo!" said the captain. "Athenais, light my pipe. La
Normande, pour me out something to drink."

"The day after to-morrow, then, captain?"

"Yes; where shall I find you?"

"Listen," replied D'Harmental, speaking so as to be heard by no one but
him. "Walk, from ten to eleven o'clock in the morning, in the Rue du
Temps Perdu. Look up; you will be called from somewhere, and you must
mount till you meet some one you know. A good breakfast will await you."

"All right, chevalier," replied the captain; "from ten to eleven in the
morning. Excuse me if I do not conduct you to the door, but you know it
is not the custom with Turks."

The chevalier made a sign with his hand that he dispensed with this
formality, and descended the staircase. He was only on the fourth step
when he heard the captain begin the famous song of the Dragoons of
Malplaquet, which had perh