course of a twelvemonth at least a million applications for money or help, and for this reason he had not an equal for detecting a coming appeal. 

"Good heavens!" he thought, "Valorsay is going to ask me for money." In fact, he felt certain that the marquis's pretended carelessness concealed real embarrassment, and that it was difficult for him to find the words he wanted.

"So I am about to marry," M. de Valorsay resumed--"I wish to break off my former life, to turn over a new leaf. And now the wedding gifts, the two fetes that I propose giving, the repairs at Valorsay, and the honeymoon with my wife--all these things will cost a nice little sum."

"A nice little sum, indeed!"

"Ah, well! as I'm not going to wed an heiress, I fear I shall run a trifle short. The matter was worrying me a little, when I thought of you. I said to myself: 'The baron, who always has money at his disposal, will no doubt let me have the use of five thousand louis for a year.'"

The baron's eyes were fixed upon his companion's face. "Zounds!" he exclaimed in a half-grieved, half-petulant tone; "I haven't the amount!"

It was not disappointment that showed itself on the marquis's face; it was absolute despair, quickly concealed.

But the baron had detected it; and he realized his applicant's urgent need. He felt certain that M. de Valorsay was financially ruined--and yet, as it did not suit his plans to refuse, he hastily added: "When I say I haven't that amount, I mean that I haven't got it on hand just at this moment. But I shall have it within forty-eight hours; and if you are at home at this time on the day after to-morrow, I will send you one of my agents, who will arrange the matter with you."

A moment before, the marquis had allowed his consternation to show itself; but this time he knew how to conceal the joy that filled his soul. So it was in the most indifferent manner, as if the affair were one of trivial importance, that he thanked the baron for being so obliging. Plainly enough, he now longed to make his escape, and indeed, after rattling off a few commonplace remarks, he rose to his feet and took his leave, exclaiming: "Till the day after to-morrow, then!"

The baron sank into an arm-chair, completely overcome. A martyr to a passion that was stronger than reason itself, the victim of a fatal love which he had not been able to drive from his 

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