"Is there any news?" said the Duke carelessly.

"Yes. The decree will be signed to-morrow. You can consider yourself
decorated. I hope you feel a happy man," said the millionaire,
rubbing his fat hands together with prodigious satisfaction.

"Oh, charmed--charmed," said the Duke, with entire indifference.

"As for me, I'm delighted--delighted," said the millionaire. "I was
extremely keen on your being decorated. After that, and after a
volume or two of travels, and after you've published your
grandfather's letters with a good introduction, you can begin to
think of the Academy."

"The Academy!" said the Duke, startled from his usual coolness. "But
I've no title to become an Academician."

"How, no title?" said the millionaire solemnly; and his little eyes
opened wide. "You're a duke."

"There's no doubt about that," said the Duke, watching him with
admiring curiosity.

"I mean to marry my daughter to a worker--a worker, my dear Duke,"
said the millionaire, slapping his big left hand with his bigger
right. "I've no prejudices--not I. I wish to have for son-in-law a
duke who wears the Order of the Legion of Honour, and belongs to the
Academic Francaise, because that is personal merit. I'm no snob."