ntleman in person, and helped him to his coffee and
pousse-cafe with all the humorous grace I can so well imagine, and
handed him the _Independance Belge_, and went back to superintend
the arrangements for the coming play.

Presently the old gentleman looked up from his paper and became
interested, and soon he grew uneasy, and finally he rose and went up
to Barty and bowed, and said (in French, of course):

"Monsieur, I have made a very stupid mistake. I am near-sighted, and
that must be my apology. Besides, you have revenged yourself 'avec
tant d'esprit,' that you will not bear me _rancune_! May I ask you to
accept my card, with my sincere excuses?..."

And lo! it was Bonzig's famous Baron! Barty immediately inquired
after his lost friend.

"Bonzig? Ah, monsieur--what a terrible tragedy! Poor Bonzig, the
Best of men--he came to me at Etretat. I invited him there from
Sheer friendship! He was drowned the very evening he arrived.

"He went and bathed after sunset--on his own responsibility and
without mentioning it to any one. How it happened I don't
know--nobody knows. He was a good swimmer, I believe, but very blind
without his glasses. He undressed behind a rock on the shore, which
is against the regulations. His body was not found till two days
after, three leagues down the coast.

"He had an aged mother, who came to Etretat. It was harrowing! They
were people who had seen better days," etc., etc., etc.

And so no more of le Grand Bonzig.

Nor did Barty ever again meet Lirieux, in whose existence a change
had also been wrought by fortune; but whether for good or evil I
can't say. He was taken to Italy and Greece by a wealthy relative.
What happened to him there--whether he ever came back, or succeeded
or failed--Barty never heard! He dropped out of Barty's life as
completely as if he had been drowned like his old friend.

These episodes, like many others past and to come in this biography,
had no particular influence on Barty Josselin's career, and no
reference to them is to be found in anything he has ever written. My
only reason for telling them is that I found them so interesting
when he told _me_, and so characteristic of himself. He was "bon
raconteur." I'm afraid I'm not, and that I've lugged these good
people in by the hair of the head; but I'm doing my best. "La plus
belle fille au monde ne peut donner que ce qu'elle a!"

I look to my editor to edit me--and to my illustrator to pull me
through.