"My dear uncle," said he to Monetti, "I know how fond you are of music and I have brought you some concert tickets." "You are very kind, my boy. Will you stay to dinner?" "Thanks, uncle, but I am expected at dinner in the Faubourg Saint Germain, indeed, I am rather put out about it for I have not time to run home and get the money to buy gloves." "You have no gloves, shall I lend you mine?" said his uncle. "Thanks, we do not take the same size, only you would greatly oblige me by the loan of--" "Twenty nine sous to buy a pair? Certainly, my boy, here you are. When one goes into society one should be well dressed. Better be envied than pitied, as your aunt used to say. Come, I see you are getting on in the world, so much the better. I would have given you more," he went on, "but it is all I have in the till. I should have to go upstairs and I cannot leave the shop, customers drop in every moment." "You were saying that business was not flourishing?" Uncle Monetti pretended not to hear, and said to his nephew who was pocketing the twenty nine sous: "Do not be in a hurry about repayment." "What a screw," said Rodolphe, bolting. "Ah!" he continued, "there are still thirty-one sous lacking. Where am I to find them? I know, let's be off to the crossroads of Providence." This was the name bestowed by Rodolphe on the most central point in Paris, that is to say, the Palais Royal, a spot where it is almost impossible to remain ten minutes without meeting ten people of one's acquaintance, creditors above all. Rodolphe therefore went and stationed himself at the entrance to the Palais Royal. This time Providence was long in coming. At last Rodolphe caught sight of it. Providence had a white hat, a green coat, and a gold headed cane--a well dressed Providence. It was a rich and obliging fellow, although a phalansterian. "I am delighted to see you," said he to Rodolphe, "come and walk a little way with me; we can have a talk." "So I am to have the infliction of the phalanstere," murmured Rodolphe, suffering himself to be led away from the wearer of the white hat, who, indeed, phalanstered him to the utmost. As they drew near the Pont des Arts Rodolphe said to his companion-- "I must leave you, not having sufficient to pay the toll." "Nonsense," said the other, catching hold of Rodolphe and throwing two sous to the toll keeper. "This is the right moment," thought the editor of "The Scarf of Iris," as they crossed the bridge. Arrived at the further end in front of the clock of the Institute, Rodolphe stopped short, pointed to the dial with a despairing gesture, and exclaimed:-- "Confound it all, a quarter to five! I am done for." "What is the matter?" cried his astonished friend. "The matter is," said Rodolphe, "that, thanks to your dragging me here in spite of myself, I have missed an appointment." "An important one?"