look in at shop windows and hire seats at two sous each
in the Champs Elysees; and, of course, the English tourist reading
"Galignani's Guide" as he goes along. Then, perhaps, a regiment marches
past with colors flying and trumpets braying; or a fantastic-looking
funeral goes by, with a hearse like a four-post bed hung with black
velvet and silver; or the peripatetic showman with his company of white
rats establishes himself on the pavement opposite, till admonished to
move on by the sergent de ville. What an ever-shifting panorama! What a
kaleidoscope of color and character! What a study for the humorist, the
painter, the poet!

Thinking thus, and watching the overflowing current as it hurried on
below, I became aware of a smart cab drawn by a showy chestnut, which
dashed round the corner of the street and came down the Rue Castellane
at a pace that caused every head to turn as it went by. Almost before I
had time to do more than observe that it was driven by a moustachioed
and lavender-kidded gentleman, it drew up before the house, and a trim
tiger jumped down, and thundered at the door. At that moment, the
gentleman, taking advantage of the pause to light a cigar, looked up,
and I recognised the black moustache and sinister countenance of
Monsieur de Simoncourt.

"A gentleman for Monsieur le Vicomte," said the servant, drawing back
the green curtain and opening a vista into the room beyond.

"Ask him to come upstairs," said the voice of De Caylus from within.

"I have done so, Monsieur; but he prefers to wait in the cabriolet."

"Pshaw!--confound it!--say that I'm coming."

The servant withdrew.

I then heard the words "perfectly safe investment--present
convenience--unexpected demand," rapidly uttered by Monsieur de Caylus;
and then they both came back; he looked flushed and angry--she calm
as ever.

"Then I shall call on you again to-morrow, Helene," said he, plucking
nervously at his glove. "You will have had time to reflect. You will see
matters differently."

Madame Courcelles shook her head.

"Reflection will not change my opinion," she said gently.

"Well, shall I send Lejeune to you? He acts as solicitor to the company,
and ..."

"_Mon cousin_" interposed the lady, "I have already given you my
decision--why pursue the question further? I do not wish to see
Monsieur Lejeune, and I have no speculative tastes whatever."

Monsieur de Caylus, with a suppressed exclamation that sounded like a
curs