“As I announced to you, he came to Maisons yesterday to dine. I had invited Abbe Miollens, and Camille had invited himself, promising that he would act like a philosopher; he only half kept his promise: for I must inform you that my nephew has conceived, I do not know why, an insurmountable antipathy to M. Larinski; he is subject to taking dislikes to people. During dinner, Abbe Miollens, who is a great linguist and a great traveller, and who has at the ends of his fingers everything concerning Poland and the Poles, led the conversation to the insurrection of 1863. M. Larinski, at first, refrained from discussing this sad subject; little by little the flood-gates were opened: he related his adventures or campaigns without boasting, praising others rather than himself; when suddenly his voice grew husky and his eyes dim, he interrupted himself, and begged we would speak of other things. Fortunately, at this moment, he did not see Camille, whose lips were a sinister smile. Young Frenchmen have become such sceptics! I made eyes at the bad boy, and on leaving the table I sent him to smoke a cigar in the park. “I should confess to you that M. Larinski has made a conquest of Abbe Miollens, who of all men is the most difficult to please, and who disputes with Providence the privilege of fathoming the depths of the human heart. You are aware that the abbe is a remarkable violinist: he sent for his instrument; M. Larinski seated himself at the piano, and the two gentlemen played a concert by Mozart--divine music performed by two angels of the first class. The conversation that followed charmed me more than the concerto. I do not know by what fatality we came to speak of marriage. I did not miss the opportunity to disclose with a most innocent air, my little theories, with which you are acquainted. Would you believe that the count concurred, more than concurred, with my views? He is more royalist than the king; he does not admit that a good rule allows of any exception. According to him, a poor man who marries a rich woman forfeits his honour, debases himself, sells himself; he is a man in bondage. He developed this theme with sombre eloquence. I assure you that the lion no longer bore resemblance to the fox.