“About two hours,” said the first. “Just as I stepped out of the Place des Victoires I met our old friend here; and, strange enough, now we have come upon _you_; three old schoolfellows thus assembled at a hazard!” “A minute later, and we should have missed each other,” said Brissole. “I was about to take my place in the _malle_ for Nancy.” “To leave Paris?” exclaimed both the others. “Even so--to leave Paris! I’ve had enough of it.” “Come, what do you mean by this?” said Cho-pard; “it sounds very like discouragement to me, who have come up here with all manner of notions of fortune, wealth, and honours.” “So much the worse for you,” said Brissole, gaily; “I’ve tried it for five years, and will try it no longer. I was vaudevillist, journalist, novelist, feuilletonist--I was the glory of the Odéon--the prop of the ‘Moniteur’--the hope of the ‘Siècle’--and look at me----” “And thou?” said the fashionable, addressing him called Chopard. “I have just had a little opera damned at Lyons, and have come up to try what can be done here.” “Poor devil!” exclaimed Brissole, shrugging his shoulders; then, turning abruptly towards the other, he said, “And what is thy luck? for, so far as externals go, thou seemest to have done better.” “Ay, Jerome,” chimed in Chopard, “tell us, how hast thou fared?--thou wert ever a fortunate fellow.” “Pretty well,” said he, laughing. “I’ve just come from St. Cloud--they’ve made me King of Westphalia!” “The devil they have!” exclaimed Chopard; “and dost know, _par hazard_, where thy kingdom lies on the map?” “Why should he torment himself about that?” said Brissole. “It’s enough to know they have capital hams there.” “What if we sup together,” said Jerome, “and taste one? I am most anxious to baptize my new Royalty in a glass of wine. Here we are in the Rue Taibout--this is Villaret’s. Come in, gentlemen--I’m the host. Make your minds easy about the future: you, Brissole, I appoint to the office of my Private Secretary. Chopard, you shall be _Maître de Chapelle_.” “Agreed,” cried the others gaily; and with a hearty shake of hands was the contract ratified. Supper was quickly prepared, and, in its splendour and profusion, pronounced, by both the guests, worthy of a king. Villaret could do these things handsomely, and as he was told expense was of no consequence, the entertainment was really magnificent. Nor was the spirit of the guests inferior to the feast. They were brilliant in wit, and overflowing in candour; concealing nothing of their past lives that would amuse or interest, each vied with the other in good stories and ludicrous adventures--all their bygone vicissitudes so pleasantly contrasting with the brilliant future they now saw opening before them. They drank long life and reign to the King of Westphalia in bumpers of foaming champagne.