between Maitland and Caffarelli in the brief interval before
M'Caskey entered. At last the door was flung wide, and the distinguished
Major appeared in full evening dress, one side of his coat a blaze of
stars and crosses, while in front of his cravat he wore the ribbon
and collar of some very showy order. Nothing could be easier than his
_entree_; nothing less embarrassed than his salutation to each in turn,
as, throwing his white gloves into his hat, he drew over to the table,
and began to search for an unused wine-glass.

"Here is a glass," said Caffarelli. "What will you drink? This is
Bordeaux, and this is some sort of Hock; this is Moselle."

"Hand me the sherry; I am chilly. I have been chilly all day, and went
out to dine against my will."

"Where did you dine?"

"With Plon-Plon," said he, languidly.

"With the Prince Napoleon?" asked Maitland, incredulously.

"Yes; he insisted on it I wrote to him to say that La Verrier, the
sous-prefect, had invited me to make as short a delay at Paris as
was consistent with my perfect convenience,--the police euphuism for
twenty-four hours; and I said, 'Pray excuse me at dinner, for I shall
want to see Caffarelli.' But he would n't take any apology, and I went,
and we really were very pleasant."

"Who was there?" asked Caffarelli.

"Only seven altogether: Bagration and his pretty niece; an Aldobrandini
Countess,--bygone, but still handsome; Joseph Poniatowsky; Botrain of
'La Patrie;' and your humble servant. Fould, I think, was expected, but
did not come. Fearfully hot, this sherry,--don't you think so?"

Maitland looked superbly defiant, and turned his head away without
ceremony. Caffarelli, however, came quickly to the rescue by pushing
over a bottle of Burgundy, and Baying, "And it was a pleasant party?"

"Yes, decidedly pleasant," said M'Caskey, with the air of one
pronouncing a judicial opinion. "The women were nice, very well
dressed,--the little Russian, especially; and then we talked away as
people only do talk in Paris, where there is none of that rotten cant
of London, and no subject discussed but the little trivialities of daily
life."

Caffarelli's eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as he watched the
expansive vanity in M'Caskey's face, and the disgust that darkened in
Maitland's. "We had a little of everything," said M'Caskey, with his
head thrown back and two fingers of one hand jauntily stuck in
his waistcoat pocket. "We had politics,--Plon-Pl