y making him both diplomatist and
academician, and cloaking him for the official carnival with the double
thickness of both the two thread-bare, though venerable, dominos, to
which society continues to bow. But how she could have loved such a
hollow, stony-hearted piece of crockery, Vedrine did not understand. Was
it his title? But her family was as good as his. Was it the English
cut of his clothes, the frock coat closely fitted to his broken-down
shoulders, and the mud-coloured trousers that made so crude a bit of
colour among the trees? One might almost think that the young villain,
Paul, was right in his contemptuous remarks on woman's taste for what is
low, for deformity in morals or physique!

The Prince had reached the three-foot fence which divided the path
from the meadow, and either because he mistrusted his slender legs,
or because he thought a vigorous movement improper for a man of his
position, he hesitated, particularly bothered by the sense that 'that
huge artist fellow' was just at his back. At last he made up his mind
to step out of his way to a gap in the wooden fence. Vedrine winked his
little eyes. 'Go round, my good sir,' was his thought, 'go round; make
the road as long as you will, it must bring you in the end to the front
of the white building yonder. And when you get there, you may possibly
have to pay a heavy reckoning for all your scoundrelly tricks. There is
always a reckoning to pay in the end.' Having relieved his mind by this
soliloquy, he jumped clean over the fence without so much as putting
a hand on it (a proceeding extremely improper), and joined the knot of
seconds busily engaged in casting lots for places and swords. In spite
of the dandified solemnity of their aspect, they looked, as they all
bent to see whether the toss fell head or tail, or ran to pick up the
coins, like big school-boys in the playground, wrinkled and grey. During
a discussion on a doubtful pitch, Vedrine heard his name called by
Astier, who, with perfect self-possession, was taking off his coat and
emptying his pockets behind the little building. 'What's that stuff the
General is talking? Wants to have his walking-stick within reach of our
swords, to prevent accidents? I won't have that sort of thing, do you
hear? This is not a lower school fight. We are both old hands, fifth
form.' In spite of his light words, his teeth were clenched and his eye
gleamed fiercely. 'It's serious then?' asked Vedrine, looking at h