wound its way imperceptibly from left to right, and long slanting threads of light and shadow pierced in time between the branches of the poplars. Our mornings were long, for we rose early and dined late; and while my father paid professional visits, I devoted my hours to study. It rarely happened that he could thus spend a whole day among his books. Just as the clock struck four, however, there came a ring at the bell. My father settled himself obstinately in his chair. "If that's a gratis patient," said he, between his teeth, "I'll not stir. From eight to ten are their hours, confound them!" "If you please, sir," said Mary, peeping in, "if you please, sir, it's a gentleman." "A stranger?" asked my father. Mary nodded, put her hand to her mouth, and burst into an irrepressible giggle. "If you please, sir," she began--but could get no farther. My father was in a towering passion directly. "Is the girl mad?" he shouted. "What is the meaning of this buffoonery?" "Oh, sir--if you please, sir," ejaculated Mary, struggling with terror and laughter together, "it's the gentleman, sir. He--he says, if you please, sir, that his name is Almond Pudding!" "Your pardon, Mademoiselle," said a plaintive voice. "Armand Proudhine--le Chevalier Armand Proudhine, at your service." Mary disappeared with her apron to her mouth, and subsided into distant peals of laughter, leaving the Chevalier standing in the doorway. He was a very little man, with a pinched and melancholy countenance, and an eye as wistful as a dog's. His threadbare clothes, made in the fashion of a dozen years before, had been decently mended in many places. A paste pin in a faded cravat, and a jaunty cane with a pinchbeck top, betrayed that he was still somewhat of a beau. His scant gray hair was tied behind with a piece of black ribbon, and he carried his hat under his arm, after the fashion of Elliston and the Prince Regent, as one sees them in the colored prints of fifty years ago. He advanced a step, bowed, and laid his card upon the table.
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