ted, and he
needs the refreshment of silence. You and I, monsieur, are, at any
rate, indebted to our own wits for our rise in the world!'

Here again I was bewildered! As you know, I am rather proud of my
descent from families which, if not noble themselves, are allied to
nobility,--and as to my 'rise in the world'--if I had risen, it would
have been rather for balloon-like qualities than for mother-wit, to
being unencumbered with heavy ballast either in my head or my pockets.
However, it was my cue to agree: so I smiled again.

'For my part,' said he, 'if a man does not stick at trifles, if he
knows how to judiciously add to, or withhold facts, and is not
sentimental in his parade of humanity, he is sure to do well; sure to
affix a _de_ or _von_ to his name, and end his days in comfort. There
is an example of what I am saying'--and he glanced furtively at the
weak-looking master of the sharp, intelligent servant, whom I have
called the chasseur.

'Monsieur le Marquis would never have been anything but a miller's son,
if it had not been for the talents of his servant. Of course you know
his antecedents?'

I was going to make some remarks on the changes in the order of the
peerage since the days of Louis XVI.--going, in fact, to be very
sensible and historical--when there was a slight commotion among the
people at the other end of the room. Lacqueys in quaint liveries must
have come in from behind the tapestry, I suppose (for I never saw them
enter, though I sate right opposite to the doors), and were handing
about the slight beverages and slighter viands which are considered
sufficient refreshments, but which looked rather meagre to my hungry
appetite. These footmen were standing solemnly opposite to a
lady,--beautiful, splendid as the dawn, but--sound asleep in a
magnificent settee. A gentleman who showed so much irritation at her
ill-timed slumbers, that I think he must have been her husband, was
trying to awaken her with actions not far removed from shakings. All in
vain; she was quite unconscious of his annoyance, or the smiles of the
company, or the automatic solemnity of the waiting footman, or the
perplexed anxiety of monsieur and madame.

My little friend sat down with a sneer, as if his curiosity was
quenched in contempt.

'Moralists would make an infinity of wise remarks on that scene,' said
he. 'In the first place, note the ridiculous position into which their
superstitious reverence for rank and titl