“For two winters I was a tolerably frequent visitor at du Bruel’s house, and I followed Claudine’s tactics closely. She had a splendid carriage. Du Bruel entered public life; she made him abjure his Royalist opinions. He rallied himself; he took his place again in the administration; the National Guard was discreetly canvassed, du Bruel was elected major, and behaved so valorously in a street riot, that he was decorated with the rosette of an officer of the Legion of Honor. He was appointed Master of Requests and head of a department. Uncle Chaffaroux died and left his niece forty thousand francs per annum, three-fourths of his fortune. Du Bruel became a deputy; but beforehand, to save the necessity of re-election, he secured his nomination to the Council of State. He reprinted divers archaeological treatises, a couple of political pamphlets, and a statistical work, by way of pretext for his appointment to one of the obliging academies of the Institut. At this moment he is a Commander of the Legion, and (after fishing in the troubled waters of political intrigue) has quite recently been made a peer of France and a count. As yet our friend does not venture to bear his honors; his wife merely puts ‘La Comtesse du Bruel’ on her cards. The sometime playwright has the Order of Leopold, the Order of Isabella, the cross of Saint-Vladimir, second class, the Order of Civil Merit of Bavaria, the Papal Order of the Golden Spur,--all the lesser orders, in short, besides the Grand Cross. “Three months ago Claudine drove to La Palferine’s door in her splendid carriage with its armorial bearings. Du Bruel’s grandfather was a farmer of taxes ennobled towards the end of Louis Quatorze’s reign. Cherin composed his coat-of-arms for him, so the Count’s coronet looks not amiss above a scutcheon innocent of Imperial absurdities. In this way, in the short space of three years, Claudine had carried out the programme laid down for her by the charming, light-hearted La Palferine. “One day, just above a month ago, she climbed the miserable staircase to her lover’s lodging; climbed in her glory, dressed like a real countess of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, to our friend’s garret. La Palferine, seeing her, said, ‘You have made a peeress of yourself I know. But it is too late, Claudine; every one is talking just now about the Southern Cross, I should like it see it!’ “‘I will get it for you.’ “La Palferine burst into a peal of Homeric laughter. “‘Most distinctly,’ he returned, ‘I do _not_ wish to have a woman as ignorant as a carp for my mistress, a woman that springs like a flying fish from the green-room of the Opera to Court, for I should like to see you at the Court of the Citizen King.’ “She turned to me. “‘What is the Southern Cross?’ she asked, in a sad, downcast voice.