cole de Medicine) was a
land unknown; and the student's life--that wonderful _Vie de Boheme_
which furnishes forth half the fiction of the Paris press--a condition
of being, about which I had never even heard. What wonder, then, that I
never arrived at Dr. Cheron's door five minutes behind time, never
missed a lecture, never forgot an appointment? What wonder that, after
dropping moodily into one or two of the theatres, I settled down quite
quietly in my lodgings; gave up my days to study; sauntered about the
lighted alleys of the Champs Elysees in the sweet spring evenings, and,
going home betimes, spent an hour or two with my books, and kept almost
as early hours as in my father's house at Saxonholme?

After I had been living thus for rather longer than three weeks, I made
up my mind one Sunday morning to call at Dalrymple's rooms, and inquire
if he had yet arrived in Paris. It was about eleven o'clock when I
reached the Chaussee d'Antin, and there learned that he was not only
arrived, but at home. Being by this time in possession of the luxury of
a card, I sent one up, and was immediately admitted. I found breakfast
still upon the table; Dalrymple sitting with an open desk and cash-box
before him; and, standing somewhat back, with his elbow resting on the
chimney-piece, a gentleman smoking a cigar. They both looked up as I was
announced, and Dalrymple, welcoming me with a hearty grasp, introduced
this gentleman as Monsieur de Simoncourt.

M. de Simoncourt bowed, knocked the ash from his cigar, and looked as
if he wished me at the Antipodes. Dalrymple was really glad to see me.

"I have been expecting you, Arbuthnot," said he, "for the last week. If
you had not soon beaten up my quarters, I should have tried, somehow, to
find out yours. What have you been about all this time? Where are you
located? What mischief have you been perpetrating since our expedition
to the _guingette_ on the river? Come, you have a thousand things
to tell me!"

M. de Simoncourt looked at his watch--a magnificent affair, decorated
with a costly chain, and a profusion of pendant trifles--and threw the
last-half of his cigar into the fireplace.

"You must excuse me, _mon cher_" said he. "I have at least a dozen calls
to make before dinner."

Dalrymple rose, readily enough, and took a roll of bank-notes from the
cash-box.

"If you are going," he said, "I may as well hand over the price of that
Tilbury. When will they send it home?"

"T