u? I knew how matters stood between you and
madame; it would have annoyed you. It was not want of confidence,
Paul; it was diffidence. Are you sober enough to hear all about it
now?"

"Sober? Well, I can listen." The Chevalier was but half awake
mentally; he still looked at Victor as one would look at an apparition.

"So. Well, then," Victor began, "once upon a time there lived a great
noble. He was valiant in wars and passing loves. From the age of
eighteen to sixty, Mars nor Venus had withheld their favors. He was a
Henri IV without a crown."

"Like that good father of mine," said the Chevalier, scowling.

"His sixtieth birthday came, and it was then he found that the garden
of pleasure, that had offered so many charming flowers for his
plucking, had drawn to its end. Behind, there were only souvenirs;
before, nothing but barren fields. Suddenly he remembered that he had
forgotten to marry. A name such as his must not sink into oblivion.
He must have a wife, young and innocent. He did not seek love; in this
his heart was as a cinder on a dead hearth. He desired an ornament to
grace his home, innocence to protect his worldly honor. Strange, how
these men who have tasted all fruits, the bitter and the sweet, should
in their old age crave the companionship of youth and innocence. So he
cast about. Being rich, he waived the question of any dowry save
beauty and birth. A certain lady-in-waiting, formerly, to the queen,
solved the problem for him. In a month her daughter would leave her
convent, fresh and innocent as the dews of morning."

"O rare poet!" interrupted the Chevalier, with a droll turn of the head.

"This pleased the noble greatly. Men who have never found their ideals
grow near-sighted at sixty. The marriage was celebrated quietly; few
persons had ever heard of Gabrielle de Montbazon. Monsieur le Comte
returned to Paris and reopened his hotel. But he kept away from court
and mingled only with those who were in disfavor. Among his friends he
wore his young wife as one would wear a flower. He evinced the same
pride in showing her off as he would in showing off a fine horse, a
famous picture, a rare drinking-cup. Madame was at first dazzled; it
was such a change from convent life. He kept wondrous guard over her
the first year. He never had any young companions at the hotel; they
were all antique like himself. Paul, there is something which age
refuses to understand. Youth, lik