what to do with his money. But the millionaire is timid, dull and
always bored, the ruined spendthrift amuses him by his impertinent ways,
and his libertine jokes; he prompts him when he is at a loss for an
answer, extricates him out of his difficulties, serves as his guide in
the great forests of Paris which is strewn with so many pit-falls, and
helps him to avoid those vulgar adventures which socially ruins a man,
no matter how well ballasted he may be. Then he points out to him what
women would make suitable mistresses for him, who make a man noted, and
have the effect of some rare and beautiful flower pinned into his
buttonhole. He is the confidant of his intrigues, his guest when he
gives small, special entertainments, his daily familiar table companion,
and the buffoon whose sly humor one stimulates, and whose worst
witticisms one tolerates."

"Really, really," the captain interrupted him, "you have been going on
for more than a quarter of an hour without saying anything."

So Royaumont shrugged his shoulders and continued: "Oh you can be very
tiresome when you please, my dear fellow!... Last year, when he was at
daggers drawn with his people, who were deafening him with their
recriminations, were worrying him and threatening him with a lot of
annoyance, Quillanet got married. A marriage of reason, and which
apparently changed his habits and his tastes, more especially as the
banker was at that time keeping a perfect little marvel of a woman, a
Parisian jewel of unspeakable attractions and of bewitching delicacy,
that adorable Suzette Marly who is just like a pocket Venus, and who in
some prior stage of her existence must have been Phryne or Lesbia. Of
course he did not get rid of her, but as he was bound to take some
judicious precautions, which are necessary for a man who is deceiving
his wife, he rented a furnished house with a courtyard in front, and a
garden at the back, which one might think had been built to shelter some
amorous folly. It was the nest that he had dreamt of, warm, snug,
elegant, the walls covered with silk hangings of subdued tints, large
pier-glasses, allegorical pictures, and filled with luxurious, low
furniture that seemed to invite caresses and embraces. Bordenave
occupied the ground floor, and the first floor served as a shrine for
the banker and his mistress. Well, just a week ago, in order to hide the
situation better, Bordenave asked Quillanet and some other friends to
one of those