"Bah! and I promised to go, believing you were sure to be of the party. St. Pol, I know, will be there, and De Brézy also." "Chardonnier's parties are charming things in their way," said Dalrymple, somewhat coldly, "and no man enjoys Burgundy and lansquenet more heartily than myself; but one might grow to care for nothing else, and I have no desire to fall into worse habits than those I have contracted already." M. de Simoneourt laughed a dry, short laugh, and twitched again at the supercilious moustache. "I had no idea you were a philosopher," said he. "Nor am I. I am a _mauvais sujet_--_mauvais_ enough, already, without seeking to become worse." "Well, adieu--I will see to this affair of the Tilbury, and desire them to let you have it by noon to-morrow." "A thousand thanks. I am ashamed that you have so much trouble in the matter. _Au revoir_." "_Au revoir_." Whereupon M. de Simoncourt honored me with a passing bow, and took his departure. Being near the window, I saw him spring into an elegant cabriolet, and drive off with the showiest of high horses and the tiniest of tigers. He was no sooner gone than Dalrymple took me by the shoulders, placed me in an easy chair, poured out a couple of glasses of hock, and said:-- "Now, then, my young friend, your news or your life! Out with it, every word, as you hope to be forgiven!" I had but little to tell, and for that little, found myself, as I had anticipated, heartily laughed at. My adventure at the restaurant, my unlucky meeting with Dr. Chéron, and the history of my interview with him next morning, delighted Dalrymple beyond measure. Nothing would satisfy him, after this, but to call me Damon, to tease me continually about Doctor Pythias, and to remind me at every turn of the desirableness of Arcadian friendships. "And so, Damon," said he, "you go nowhere, see nothing, and know nobody. This sort of life will never do for you! I must take you out--introduce you--get you an _entrée_ into society, before I leave Paris." "I should be heartily glad to visit at one or two private houses," I replied. "To spend the winter in this place without knowing a soul, would be something frightful." Dalrymple looked at me half laughingly, half compassionately. "Before I do it, however," said he, "you must look a little less like a savage, and more like a tame Christian. You must have your hair cut, and learn to tie your cravat properly. Do you possess an evening suit?" Blushing to the tips of my ears, I not only confessed that I was destitute of that desirable outfit, but also that I had never yet in all my life had occasion to wear it.