nd rounded off his shoulders again;
but the young lady looked at him from head to foot with such a
freezing glance, that his tongue remained as if paralyzed in his
mouth, and he could only stammer out:

"Mademoiselle! the honor, the humblest of your admirers."

Fortunately Maxence was standing three steps off--he fell back in
good order upon him, and seizing his hand, which he shook vigorously:

"I hope, my dear sir, that we shall soon be quite intimate friends.
Your excellent father, whose special concern you are, has often
spoken to me of you. Events, so he has confided to me, have not
hitherto responded to your expectations. At your age, this is not
a very grave matter. People, now-a-days, do not always find at the
first attempt the road that leads to fortune. You will find yours.
From this time forth I place at your command my influence and my
experience; and, if you will consent to take me for your guide--"

Maxence had withdrawn his hand.

"I am very much obliged to you, sir," he answered coldly; "but I am
content with my lot, and I believe myself old enough to walk alone."

Almost any one would have lost countenance. But M. Costeclar was
so little put out, that it seemed as though he had expected just
such a reception. He turned upon his heels, and advanced towards
M. Favoral's friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evident
that he was anxious to conquer their suffrages.

This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870. No one as
yet could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark the
end of that fatal year. And yet there was everywhere in France
that indefinable anxiety which precedes great social convulsions.
The plebiscitum had not succeeded in restoring confidence. Every
day the most alarming rumors were put in circulation and it was with
a sort of passion that people went in quest of news.

Now, M. Costeclar was a wonderfully well-posted man. He had,
doubtless, on his way, stopped on the Boulevard des Italiens, that
blessed ground where nightly the street-brokers labor for the
financial prosperity of the country. He had gone through the Passage
de l'Opera, which is, as is well known, the best market for the most
correct and the most reliable news. Therefore he might safely be
believed.

Placing his back to the chimney, he had taken the lead in the
conversation; and he was talking, talking, talking. Being a "bull,"
he took a favorable view of every thing. He beli