Such an individual was naturally the last man in the world to trouble himself respecting his relations--and above all, his poor relations. Nevertheless, on the present occasion he was accompanied by his nephew and heir. Indeed it was in answer to his uncle's warm invitation (but not at his expense) that Captain Haig was visiting Homburg before rejoining his regiment in India. Malcolm Haig was a well-set-up young officer, with a pair of merry blue eyes, and a touch of sunshine in his closely cropped locks. Sir Horace introduced, with an air of bland complacency, a kinsman who did him credit, made no demands on his patience, nor yet upon his pocket. All the same, he had excellent reason to know that Malcolm was "hard up." His private means were nominal, and he was about to conclude a year's leave in England--a year's leave is often an expensive luxury. Under such circumstances his banker's account would be uncomfortably low--in fact, Malcolm had said as much. Sir Horace was disposed to exert his social influence, and endeavour to do the poor young fellow a good turn. He was handsome and well born; if his purse was lean, he had an adventurous spirit and a susceptible heart. As uncle and nephew followed the winding path which led to the far-famed Elisabeth Well, the latter was struck by the exceptional beauty of their surroundings, the admirably-kept greensward, the shady trees and flowering shrubs, on which the early dew was still glistening. There was a delicious perfume of roses in the air, and the inspiriting sound of a string band in the near distance. "I say," began the young man, now walking beside his companion, "I had no idea that Homburg was like this--half park, half garden, and so pretty." "Hadn't you!" rejoined his uncle gruffly; "well, I suppose it is! This is my twenty-seventh season--I've got over my first raptures by this time." "I don't believe I could ever come back to the same place twenty-seven times." "Think it argues a lack of originality? It would depend on its attractions. You don't want to go back to Perapore twenty-seven times, eh?" "By Jove, no--nor twice!" he answered, with emphasis. "But here it is different, my boy. It is good for one's liver, it is gay, and, as you remark, pretty. There is any amount of entertaining; dinners and luncheons; there is golf and tennis. I meet the people I know--or want to know. In short, Homburg has become an agreeable habit, which there is no occasion to relinquish. And here we are!" he announced, as they emerged from a shady walk into a wide and crowded promenade. At one end of this promenade was the celebrated well, at present closely invested by a number of votaries, who were sipping their first glass, or waiting to be served by the active, blue-gowned maidens. Here were young and old, society folk and nobodies, a Russian Grand Duke stood elbow to elbow with a Scotch grocer, and the Countess of Marmalade was patiently waiting till Cora Sans Souci was served.