"And where the devil is _monsieur le Comte_?" asked Baudeuf, with a grimace. "At the gold-fields, having spent his fortune twice on the girl." "Well, to a wife in Paris a husband at the gold-fields is just as valuable as no husband at all. _Très bon_! I shall see pretty Mogador, if your magician has any skill." "And where does your magician hang out?" asked Studhome. "Hang—hang—_il mérite la corde_, you mean, monsieur?" asked the puzzled Frenchman. "No, no; where is he to be found?" "_Monsieur le magicien_ holds a spiritual séance to-night," observed a French hussar, whose gorgeous dolman was almost sword-proof with silver lace. "_Très bon!_" exclaimed another; "there are twenty girls in Paris I want to see." "What is his time, Jules?" "Eight o’clock." "’Tis but twenty minutes from that now." "We shall go too," said Studhome, "and have our fortunes told; it will be as good a lark, monsieur, as any other." "Lark—_aloutte_—oh, yes, _très bon!_" replied Jolicoeur, with a good-natured smile, though quite at a loss to understand why the bird was referred to. "My fortune has often been told me, Newton, by gipsies, at Maidstone and Canterbury. By no two alike; but it was magnificent, according to the fee I gave, and always droll. We shall see what this astrologer—a real magician—has to show us." "If he shows us Louisa Loftus, Jack, I’ll forfeit a year’s pay!" "Come, messieurs, to the séance," shouted Jolicoeur, as he buckled on his sabre. "I wish to see Mademoiselle Sophie of ours, who has gone to Constantinople." "And I Mogador," said Captain Baudeuf, "the delicious little dancer at the Mabille." "And I Rose Pompon!" exclaimed the hussar, tying the cords of his silver dolman. "Rose, the heroine of a thousand flirtations." "Mogador, the empress of ten thousand hearts," added the captain. "Hearts such as thine, _mon camarade_," said the hussar, laughing. "And Fleur d’Amour," added another heedless fellow, "the Queen of the Tourlurous!"[*] [*] Camp phrase for the French linesmen. "_Ah, mon capitaine_," said Jules. "_Peste!_ what a _roué_ it is. He has made as many conquests as our good friend Don Juan, in the delightful opera which bears his name." "Beware!" said the other, with a mock frown; "I’m an ace of diamonds man with the pistol, Jules." "Bah! Your pistol will never be levelled at me. Have a cigarette?" "Thanks. As for Mogador, her silk tights were a study at the Mabille, and the grace with which she showed her feet and ankles——" "_Cordieu, mon ami!_ we haven’t a man in the 2nd Zouaves who has not appreciated that generous exhibition to the utmost. I hope she’ll appear in Baudeuf’s hand as Diana, or the chaste Lucretia!" said Jolicoeur. These remarks elicited roars of laughter from the gay Frenchmen. "By Jove, Newton," whispered Studhome, "our fair friends will be conjured up in odd company. These fellows are naming the most notorious _lorettes_ in Paris!"