to him of "Moses in Egypt," nor of the drama, or romanticism, or local
color, nor of railways. He himself had never got beyond Monsieur de
Voltaire, Monsieur le Comte de Buffon, Payronnet, and the Chevalier
Gluck, the Queen's favorite musician.

"Madame," he said to the Marquise de Listomere, who was on his arm as
they entered Madame Firmiani's salons, "if this woman is my nephew's
mistress, I pity him. How can she live in the midst of this luxury,
and know that he is in a garret? Hasn't she any soul? Octave is a fool
to have given up such an estate as Villaines for a--"

Monsieur de Bourbonne belonged to the species Fossil, and used the
language of the days of yore.

"But suppose he had lost it at play?"

"Then, madame, he would at least have had the pleasure of gambling."

"And do you think he has had no pleasure here? See! look at Madame
Firmiani."

The brightest memories of the old man faded at the sight of his
nephew's so-called mistress. His anger died away at the gracious
exclamation which came from his lips as he looked at her. By one of
those fortunate accidents which happen only to pretty women, it was a
moment when all her beauties shone with peculiar lustre, due perhaps
to the wax-lights, to the charming simplicity of her dress, to the
ineffable atmosphere of elegance that surrounded her. One must needs
have studied the transitions of an evening in a Parisian salon to
appreciate the imperceptible lights and shades which color a woman's